


Subject 327 Delta

by Musicalrain



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Asexual Character, Demisexuality, Disabled Character, F/F, Families of Choice, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, Self-Insert, Soldier-class Shepard, post-ME3, varren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicalrain/pseuds/Musicalrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wake up the victim of reality disturbances caused in the wake of the Reaper War. This is the story of how I find my place in a sci-fi post-apocalyptic galaxy, and build a relationship with Shepard herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo I have about 80% of this written, and am editing and writing more as I post. If you notice any glaring mistakes, please let me know! Especially with the timeline since I've been working on this here and there for roughly two years. Enjoy!

I fiddle with the edge of my jacket while I wait impatiently for the crosswalk's light to change to that white little stick-figure that signifies that I can safely cross the street – not that that little light has saved me from nearly being hit by a car in the past, more than once. God , I'm gonna be so late to work. Dammit – I took the extra time to drink two cups of coffee, when I'm lucky to squeeze in one cup in my morning routine, and now I'm gonna pay for it. It's a good thing I open the office every day, so only my paycheck is affected by my tardiness... and I have to put in a little extra effort to make sure everything's ready by the time nine o'clock rolls around in less time than normal. I can do it though, if only this God forsaken light would change and traffic would stop long enough for me to cross.

 

There. Finally.

 

I scuttle over the edge of the sidewalk and onto the pot-hole ridden street on my usual diagonal through the intersection to save me the time and effort of crossing the adjacent side-street after crossing the main. A car, whose driver is probably running late to work too, flies down the side-street making a sharp turn through the intersection. Whoa, buddy, I scream at him in my head, you're cutting it a little close – don't you see me?!

 

I don't even have enough time to curse aloud before the driver barrels into my side. The pain is... unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's a lancing, sharp sensation blanketed by heat and agony all wrapped around me tight enough to suffocate. I feel myself screaming at the power of the sensations rampaging through me. There's a light though, a red light – the most intense red color I've ever seen, and so bright it's blinding. I feel nothing more when all I can see is that light, and I can't help but fleetingly wonder if this is what death looks like.

 

After an indescribable long moment where I was void of all sensation – touch, sight, sound, smell – it was all dark and empty all around and through me, I see a white light, not red, when my eyes finally crack themselves open. An aged man's face with surprisingly delicate features swims into my vision after a moment. His face crinkles and frowns down at me before he turns his head away from glancing at me.

 

“She's awake,” I hear him say to someone off in the distance, “Ping the Director.”

 

My eyes struggle to focus while I turn my head around to glance at my surroundings as much as my aching muscles will allow. I don't know who this man is, and I don't know where I am. I can feel my heart rate pick up as fear bubbles through me, and an answering beeping tone in the distance increases in frequency with my heart.

 

“Please calm down,” he man asks me in gentle tones meant to be soothing. He reaches out with one hand to touch my shoulder, I assume, in order to help me settle down, but I jerk away from his touch though, more wary than not over a stranger touching me even that briefly. A little gasp of worry and fear breezes past my lips with my sharp movement. My side feels stiff and numb, and I vaguely remember a car hitting me what seems like moments before.

 

“Ma'am,” he addresses me with a frown still etching his features, “This may sound odd, but it's very important... what was the date as you last remember it?”

 

….What?... My mind whispers in question while I watch the man take his hand away and slowly take a step back in face of my disquiet. Why is he asking me the day? Why isn't he saying who the ever-living fuck he is? I too frown and try to get my thoughts in order. I finally decide just to answer him, what else can I do? “'October twenty-second.”

 

He shakes his head briefly making the white light shine off of his bald head, “The year ,” he emphasizes.

 

Fear claws at me again, but for a different reason. Why in the hell would he ask me that question? Swallowing past a suddenly dry throat, I croak out the answer to his crazy question, “twenty-fourteen.”

 

Air blows past his lips on a loud exhale. He shakes his head again, and rubs at one temple briefly in apparent stress. “I'm about to tell you something that you're not going to comprehend, at least at first.” He looks me dead in the eyes, and I feel that fear struggling to sprout wings, “The date is July seventeenth... and the year is twenty-one ninety-two.”

  
  


02:48 17.7.2192 Note Entry

 

After I had an epic panic-attack, it's explained to me that I'm part of a collection of people called the 'Lost Ones', and that their non-profit cooperation, Jameson-Effect Management, or JEM , handles the care and primary services, like orientation, medical needs, and re-education, of people like me. I'm explained that in their system I'm recorded as Subject 327 Delta, and that's why those letters are stamped onto the starchy grey, ill-fitting, scrubs I'm currently wearing.

 

I'm told that in this year, 2192, it's been five years since Commander Shepard destroyed the Reapers in Earth's atmosphere. And when I'd told Dr. Greene, that man who'd been beside me when I awoken, that that's from a video game , he sighed again and said that's why I'm a 'Delta'. It took some conversation, frantic on my part, for me to understand what this all really means.

 

Apparently, when Commander Shepard destroyed the Reapers with that bit of modified Prothean technology called a Crucible, it, unknowingly at the time, disrupted the fabric of time and space. That disruption has caused various inhabitants of Earth to go missing, and others to appear out of thin air. Not all the people, only humans he'd said, that appear are from the same realm of time and space, and they've encountered people from, so far, eight different realities. I'm from reality Delta, the reality where the events of this time are known to it's inhabitants in the form of a video game series. I'm told there are 39 known Deltas, including myself. He'd stressed known , because they doubt they've found, or know of, all the Lost Ones. I'm the 327th they've found.

 

I was known to be a Delta, even in my injured and non-speaking state they found me in, because of some science I don't really understand. Electromagnetic fields, radiation signatures were said...

 

The first Lost One was a man, an Alpha – the reality where the events of the Reaper War are pieces of history to its people – named Gregoire-Kane Jameson. When it became clear that this reality-defining phenomena wasn't a one-time deal, or even a fortieth-time deal, JEM was created in honor of Mr. Jameson and the physical phenomena that was too named for him.

 

JEM has limited funding, according to Dr. Greene, since five years after the War the galaxy is still hemorrhaging resources and funds, and more people would rather donate to organizations like the Red Cross or the Citadel Relief Effort, if they weren't struggling to stay above poverty-lines themselves. A small percentage of people popping up all around Earth isn't that concerning to a lot of people when their planet is still recovering from a war where it was nearly completely destroyed. A few Alphas, who thanks to their knowledge of this time have been able to make smart investments and other financial moves if they felt inclined to, are the primary benefactors of JEM.

 

That's why Dr. Greene told me I have two titanium ribs instead of having new bone grown for me.

 

Other medical procedures seem to not cost as much, since they'd gone ahead and fixed my near-sightedness, upped my immunizations to include even asari, drell, and salarian diseases that can cross the species-barrier, and given me translator and omni-tool implants.

 

I didn't believe Dr. Greene. I was near hysterical with my disbelief until the Director came in. Director Luellah T'Reye. A dark blue asari in a pants-suit. Crested head and everything. And I understood her when she spoke. The words didn't match up with the movement of her lips, but I'd only heard English clear as day in my ears.

 

She showed me to a room and then had a volunteer give me a tour of the facility. The volunteer's a Beta, someone from a reality where this time was completely unknown to them in any form, named Jodi Jones. She even showed me how to use my omni-tool. Jodi also told me that a few Alphas and couple other Lost Ones, those with more of a scientific mind, have been working with the scientists of JEM on a way to stop the reality disturbances caused in the defeat of the Reapers. According to her, they don't have any idea on how to get us back to our own realities, but that, even though I can't go home – ever – I should take comfort in the fact that soon other people won't have to go through what we've been through. I cried when she told me that. I cried for a long time.

 

When I finally stopped crying, Jodi told me I should get some rest because tomorrow I'll be attending Orientation with other newer Lost Ones. She said Subject 326 was only found a month before me, and that maybe I should talk to him. His name's Lyle Groves, a thirteen year old boy and he's a Delta too, but he's from year 2022. I can't even imagine being a kid and having this happen to me. Jodi said there's been one known case of a toddler Lost One, and that's just so incredibly sad. I think I'll talk to this kid Lyle, because Jodi said once we're through Orientation, therapy, and mixed classes of history, sociology, and a crash course on technology, we'll have to make decisions on what to do with ourselves after we graduate from JEM. She said some don't graduate. They can't for either psychological or physiological reasons, and then they're usually committed or placed in community homes. She said that if Lyle does well, he'll be placed in a sympathetic foster home where he'll go to school and, hopefully, have a relatively normal life.

 

She said JEM helps us plan our lives by giving us training, helping us attain scholarships and grants, or using their contacts on our behalf. She said that means, that if I weren't from year 2014 and my education wasn't an equivalent of a sixth grader, even with my university schooling, that they could help me go back to school. She said some Lost Ones have joined the military, some have settled off-world on colonies as farmers or laborers, some have gone to live on the re-built Citadel for business or entrepreneurship reasons, and a couple have attended university or gone to technical school. A great number of Lost Ones have stayed on Earth and found niches where they fit in, like Jodi.

 

I asked her how there were still schools and things, since Dr. Greene made it sound like this post-apocalyptic world, err, galaxy was really in a terrible state. She said that there will always be people wanting to learn, people willing to fight, and people with goods to sell no matter what a place goes through.

 

She also said Dr. Greene's a pessimist, and that it all isn't really that bad out there.

 

Jodi told me that she thinks I'll do well because I'd only cried a couple times and I didn't need to be restrained. Not all that comforting, but I guess I'll have to take it for what it is.

 

Since Jodi showed me how to use this omni-tool, I'll be typing my thoughts out here. And I need the reminder of all this for when I wake up tomorrow and forget everything. She said that happens.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed most of my italics didn't post with the first chapter, so I'll try to keep an eye out for that in the future xP I'll be posting chapters as I have time and writing more here and there too. But it's a short chapter this time - the next is a lot longer though! Thanks for the interest so far!

_19:32 18.7.2192 Note Entry_

 

She was right. I did forget everything. I cried for a long time again, and Jodi had to bring in a therapist to calm me down. I can't remember her name. I met Lyle. He gave me a hug that made me cry some more. I started physical therapy today too. I have some metal pieces in my arm and leg to go along with those ribs. Left side's pretty messed up from that car. Doesn't hurt too much though. Only really stiff.

 

_12:02 21.7.2192 Note Entry_

 

I needed a couple days to sort myself out. That first day, or second day really, was pretty intense, considering everything.

 

I found out the true extent of my injuries and learned that a couple of my joints had to be replaced along with those ribs, and that my bone structure had to be reinforced with bone weaves due to multiple fractures and breaks. There's an apparent plus side to that, since I won't be prone to any future such injuries. Dr. Greene even laughed and said that I could probably headbutt a krogan and not crack my skull. The procedure was expensive though due to the nanites needed to build the weave, and that's why the bones and joints that had needed replaced, because they were completely shattered beyond repair, ended up being with metal and not vat-grown bone. Titanium, I think I remember him saying. He said the costs were almost negligible, but the cost of labor and a factor of time is what led to the decision on the titanium. They have something called a 'bone knitter' too, and that's why I'm not in a crap load of casts held up in a hospital bed for who-knows-how-long while my bones mend to the weaves and metal parts. When they found me, in the middle of a market's packed dirt parking lot in southern Utah, I was unconscious, bleeding, and half-crushed due to the car accident. They had kept me in a medically-induced coma to spare me the shock of my injures, and of my situation. It was determined that I would be in a better frame of mind to accept things if I could move freely without restriction, and didn't need to be so closely monitored for medical concerns. Or held up in that medical bed. It was also easier for them to transport me to Vancouver, and JEM, while unconscious once it was determined that I was in fact a Lost One.

 

I've never been to Utah or Vancouver before. I never even saw Utah, and probably wouldn't have known I was there unless Dr. Greene told me. Why'd I end up in Utah about 200-years in the future in an alternate reality? Jodi said it was random, and not to worry about it.

 

Director T'Reye met with me yesterday and asked me about what I did before – who I was, where I lived. I'm not interesting, but for twenty or so minutes she pretended to be interested. Heck, who knows, maybe she actually enjoys her work and genuinely cares about the people affected by Jameson-Effect disturbances. It's a nice thought.

 

It was weird though, seeing her again. I think when I first met her I must've not have been paying close enough attention. Or maybe I was in shock. Not only do her mouth movements not match up with a single word I hear, but she's blue. Like really blue. That probably sounds stupid, but her skin texture looks different too. It looks more... matted, I guess, under the lights in her office. She's not the exact same shade of blue all over. The color darkens at her cheekbones, the sides of her forehead, the backs of her hands. And instead of a sorta pinkish hue that people, _humans_ , have on the edges and corners of their eyes, the palms of their hands, their lips, gums, and tongue she has a purple, almost lavender, color at those places. I probably stared at her smile a little too long when she greeted me then because I'd noticed that. But... her blood must be purple then, and not red. Her scalp too. It's different. It looks fleshy, smooth, and contours from her forehead so seamlessly despite the unfamiliarity of the shape. It's incredibly strange to _see_ her too, her whole person. She, well her species, I've only ever known as animated characters of fiction. She looks so real. The animation of the games didn't do the real asari justice.

 

I'll be going back to Orientation tomorrow, and I'll be starting on those mixed-subject classes after physical therapy. Lyle said most people graduate in about nine to thirteen months from JEM. Sometimes longer, or shorter, depending on what century they've come from. It's usually a matter of acceptance and psychological trauma on the time-frame for everything, at least, from what I've been able to put together. Lyle also gave me a nickel dated 2108, and it has to be the most awesome thing ever. He said it was one of the last ones made right before _everything_ went electronic and they stopped making coins and paper money all together. He found that out on the extranet shortly after he got here. He said he found some change on the ground when he arrived in this reality, and he knew something had to be going on because all the dates on the coins were wrong. He thinks someone must've lost their coin collection, because change hasn't been used for a long time here. If I could, I'd get the nickel put into a setting for a necklace. As a reminder.

 

Today's my last day I have with some time to myself before I have to start up on everything again, so I think I'm gonna take pictures, holos, of all the pictures in my phone before the battery dies on it. I still have my purse, and most of it was saved probably because I had kept it slung over on the right side of me when the car hit me. None of the clothes I had were salvageable, but I wish I had my jacket, as silly as that sounds. I didn't even have anything in the pockets, but I'd like to wear it.

  
Jodi told me we get a stipend after it's determined that we're fit to be released from JEM grounds to explore the city on personal time. That's nice, though. I didn't expect them to give us money, err _credits_ , to spend. Maybe I can find a jacket like mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Part One of this chapter (I broke it up cause it's such a monster). I'll have Part Two up tomorrow! :)
> 
> Oh! Also - it's journal entries up until the linebreak then it reads as first POV

_23:02 22.8.2192 Note Entry_

 

It's my birthday. I'm 24. Or is it two-hundred-ish years old? How fucked up is that? Lyle put together a party with a few of our other more sociable classmates in the Mess Hall after hours. It was nice, but sad, you know? He got that nickel put into a setting for me with Jodi's help. I guess that makes it a present from the both of them. They're the best friends I have here. I owe them so much for well, everything, and now for the party. I wasn't expecting that. It was even more than I'd do back home for my birthday.

  


_05:14 24.9.2192 Note Entry_

 

Lyle got permission to go off-base. He said it took some begging on his part, but he got permission for me to go too. He tells me I owe him one now. Jodi's going to come too, since we both don't know what we're doing or where we're going. And Lyle's only a kid. I'm hardly the best person to look after him when I'm barely qualified to look after myself, since I know I wouldn't have gotten permission for leave on my own. But Jodi's old enough to be the mother of us both, so it's almost a family outing. Kinda. Except none of us look related, and we're not actually related.

 

* * *

 

I take another glance in the small mirror in the cramped bathroom I call my own, swiping my hands through my unruly hair for a third, or maybe fourth, time wishing it into some semblance of order. One of Jodi's roommates had given her a set of clothes for me to use since all I have are the JEM t-shirts, sweat pants, and shapeless hospital garb with my identifiers printed onto it. I'm not wearing those out in the city. It's bad enough we all go around looking like prisoners, or something, in the facility. Though the clothes her roommate let me borrow look a heck of a lot like those 'colonist' overalls you could choose for your Shepard to wear in the game, except the legs of these are more form-fitting and it has full-length sleeves sewn in at the armpits that leave my shoulders bare. Some differences made in design over a couple years, maybe? It's burgundy colored too, and apparently these are quite popular. Functional clothes? The equivalent of jeans and a t-shirt back home? It's... strange to see myself in them, these space-age clothes. The material is thick, but light, and it doesn't wrinkle easily. And with the black boots I'm borrowing that look more for not slipping on slick surfaces rather than hiking through dirt and brush, I feel rather... misplaced inside of them.

 

I sigh to myself and resist the urge to shake my head while my fingers finally ease my wavy hair into a straight part along the right side of my head. I look into the mirror again, now satisfied with the dark mop on my head, and then open up the metal case of the borrowed makeup I'm using for the occasion too. I find a stick of black eyeliner and an applicator pen of gold eyeshadow, and set to work on my makeup as quickly as possible. When I'm finished, I give myself a moment to take in the simple eye makeup I've applied around the still unfamiliar sight of my dark brown irises now decorated with a subtle silver lacing of the basic cybernetic circuitry used to get my vision up to par. It's bizarre as heck. I'm like a cyborg. Banishing those thoughts from my head, and not willing to do anything else in preparation for the outing Lyle has gotten together for us, I pop the makeup back into its case and turn to alight my hand on the holographic interface of the bathroom's door. Doors not actually _swinging_ open but instead _sliding_ open took some getting used to. Sometimes I still startle ever so slightly when they don't open the way the doors back home would.

 

The door opens with a soft _whoosh_ , and I step out into my small quarters to see a grinning Jodi sitting at my desk chair.

 

“Look at you, doll-face,” she grins wider. “Ya clean up nice, girl.”

 

I snort at her in response to her compliments, not really knowing how else to react to them when it comes to her, and hold out her makeup case. “Thanks,” I mumble when she stands and gently takes the case from me before sliding it into the purse slung over her shoulder. “Is Lyle ready?” I ask with a quirked brow. He had to borrow clothes from one of Jodi's roommates too, since we both don't actually have clothes of our own. The woman lives with like four other people in one apartment flat, since spending most of her time as a volunteer at JEM and working part-time as a café waitress doesn't give Jodi the luxury of better housing. She seems happy with her situation though, and has said on many occasions that she wouldn't change it for the world.

 

“Boy's been ready for awhile, girl,” her wide smile turns a bit more into a smirk. “You ain't no pre-Madonna with your looks though. Boy's just driving me up a wall, is all. Kid wants to go out.”

 

“Yeah,” I nod along and feel a nervousness start to bubble up in me with a little more intensity at the prospect of finally 'going out'. “I've never seen Vancouver before.”

 

“Ain't probably nothin' like the Vancouver ya would've seen back home neither.” Jodi turns around on the balls of her feet and beckons me towards the door with a wave of her hand. “Come along now, girl. We got some sights ta see.”

 

“Karie!” I turn once outside the door to see Lyle bound up towards us looking even more lanky than normal in an outfit that more resembles a tracksuit than casual wear, but that I assume is normal to wear for the people native to this place. “We have forty minutes or we're gonna be late for that tour of Alliance HQ.”

 

“ _Forty_ minutes,” I repeat with a chuckle while I look up towards the kid who's a good head taller than me. “We have plenty of time.”

 

Lyle frowns before proceeding to usher us out of the JEM facility with ecstatic, boundless energy the whole way. Once we pass through the checkpoint before the building's main gleaming glass doors, further than I've yet to have ventured in the building, I feel my own bit of nervous, yet excited, energy threaten to leak through every pore of my body.

 

“Ya two make for quite the sight with them smiles. Like clowns ya are.” Jodi clucks her tongue at us in an odd mixture of amusement and chastisement before passing her hand through the glowing interface beside the double doors making her dusky skin look orange for the briefest of moments. These doors are the last barrier between us and the world we've yet to experience. A world we're irrevocably tied to and amazingly a part of due to some sort of phenomenon I can barely understand myself.

 

“ _Ready_?” Lyle stage whispers to me while shifting his weight in nervous excitement. I nod and wring my hands together with my own nerves while the doors finally slide open.

 

When we step outside and into the city-proper, I feel the air leave my lungs at what I see in the early morning light. The sight probably isn't anything special, but to me, and maybe Lyle too, it's nothing short of amazing. I feel so... small surrounded by the tall, sleek buildings of glass and metal. Being from a large city myself, and having vacationed in larger cities than my hometown – cities like Atlanta, Chicago, and New York, I'm used to the feeling of being disproportional in comparison to the buildings and lit signs of a big city, but these buildings are huge. There aren't nearly as many of them like those of New York, but I still get the sense of being nothing more than an ant in a hive. The buildings between the sparse skyscrapers are blocky and shorter, and quite a few of them look like little more than re-purposed prefab trailers.

 

The air also feels different and breathes differently too. There's not so much a smog in the passing breeze, but a dust and an unfamiliar moisture that passes a little heavy with each inhale. There are people everywhere too, from one side of the wide street to the other, and skycars whizzing by high above. The scents of the expelled fuel and body odor of the city's patrons adds to the air's unfamiliarity and novelty. I mostly see the passing heads of humans in the crowds, but I also can't miss the bright flecks of blues, purples, and pinks of the few asari darting about on their business. I stumble a moment on the steps leading down from those JEM doors when I spy a pair of willowy salarians scurrying past and entering a nearby small building below a glowing sign in a language I can't read nor recognize. I couldn't get a look at them enough to really see their alien forms and appreciate their differences, but I've studied the other species in those mandatory classes of ours at JEM. I know their skin is sleek like an amphibians, that their glassy eyes have two sets of lids, and that their horns are firm but the slightest bit flexible. I'd like to get a good look at them though, and I mean that in the most un-creepy way possible. It's amazing. There are aliens walking about and integrated as normal, and essential, members of society.

 

“Karie,” Lyle calls towards me and pulls on my elbow. “Did you see that?” He jerks his head in the direction of that mysterious little building the salarians had disappeared into.

 

“Yeah,” I say with undeniable giddiness in my tone. “C'mon, let's get to Alliance HQ. We have plenty of time to walk around after.”

 

We stick close to Jodi while we weave ourselves through the crowds and to a nearby transport station for both trams and taxis. We pass our credit chits at one of the many terminals lining the sides of the hub, and board a tram heading towards the north-end of the city where Alliance HQ is situated. We're packed in like sardines, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers, and all three of us grasp a hold of one of the metal poles inside the cab that several patrons are already holding on to.

 

“This thing goes fast,” Jodi warns us. “Ya can trip on yer own feet if ya don't hold on.”

 

“Is this like a bullet train?” I raise my voice over the noise inside the cab and try my best to squeeze in closer towards Jodi and Lyle. “I read it only takes a few minutes to get from one side of the city to the other on one of these.”

 

Jodi barks a laugh by way of answer and instead says, “Just keep an ear open fer our stop. Second ta last one. They'll tell the stops over them speakers.”

 

It is a bullet train. I had at first only held on to the poll with a casual grasp, but after the tram started to speed off, and I rammed into the couple beside me rather rudely, I righted myself and held onto the thing with a death grip and both hands. We came to our stop after just a few quickly passing minutes, and squeezed ourselves through the mass of bodies and out into the hub of the transport station that's only a couple blocks off from Alliance grounds.

 

“C'mere yer two,” Jodi pulls us out of the throng of passing people and to the side near to the exit's doors. “I gotta be at work by the midday rush.” She looks at us rather seriously, and I stop from people-watching to pay my full attention to her. “I can stay fer the tour, but I gotta get my behind back 'fore noon.” She takes a short breath, “When you're ready ta head on back, take this tram – same number a stops, and follow yer locaters back ta JEM. Simple. Need any help, gimme a ring.”

 

I blink up at her, “What are we supposed to do after the tour?”

 

She shrugs, “Get yerselves some lunch, catch a vid, do some sight seein'... Whatever ya feel like.” She raises one finger and points at us both while narrowing her eyes, “Just don't get inta trouble. If ya get inta trouble, it's my hide that get's tanned, and I'll have nothin' of it. Understand?”

 

I nod my head a bit startled at not having had anyone talk to me like that since I was a child, while Lyle says a quick 'yes, ma'am' in reply. Jodi turns around and leads us through the crowd and out onto the streets. I blink a bit in the lower, natural lighting of the outdoors and briefly notice that the buildings around here are even shorter and a little more spaced out. There's more greenery here too, with a handful of trees and potted flowers at the corners of buildings and along the sides of raised walkways. The trees are all thin and young, hinting at being planted not too long ago and signifying the recovering nature of the metropolis, like Dr. Greene had said. The crowds of people are less dense than the southern part of the city where JEM's situated, although there are many more aliens walking about in the residents' numbers. I spy several asari, a few tall silhouettes of salarians, and even the light reflecting off of the metallic carapaces of a couple turians. I look after the turians a little too long, and almost miss the hanar and its drell companion crossing into the transit hub behind us. Holy shit. My brain sputters to a halt at the unbelievable sight of those two, and Lyle has to physically drag me in his haste to get to Alliance HQ and the tour it promises its guests.

 

I know I'm probably gawking like a fool by the time Jodi leads us up a metal grated ramp and onto a footpath leading towards the edge of Alliance grounds, but I can't seem to find the will to do something about it. There's more people in uniforms of all sorts here, though there's an overwhelming amount of people clothed in _blue_ all over. Jodi stops one of these blue-clad people, and gets quick directions to the visitor's building. We have to pass through a security checkpoint along the way, but it's nothing more than passing our hands through a single stationary interface, our omni-tools flashing at the interaction, and then crossing through a lighted holographic field projected between two tall pillars. I know, at the least, that the sensor has to be a metal detector, chemical detector, and a base sensor of illegal biological augmentations and items of warfare. I'm sure it even reads radiation levels. It has to be more sensitive than any similar machinery back home, in order to ensure the safety of the entire facility. I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a genetic profile of the people that pass through it too, all with the justification of safety for the people who pledge themselves to the safety of others. When we're cleared, we then walk by a couple of bored looking guards, and follow the pathways winding towards the visitor's center.

 

Once we enter the building of metal, filtered air, and hard edges, we pass our credit chits at a terminal and reserve spots in the next guest tour. In the ten minutes before the tour's start, Lyle manages to buy himself an Alliance ball-cap and a vid-game download for his omni-tool. He bought the download of _Commander Shepard: the Champion of the Traverse_ mini-game. I ask him to let me know if it's any good before we all gather around our tour guide. The guide is a fresh-faced young Alliance soldier dressed in the common blue fatigues of her brothers and sisters. She leads us, a group of adults and children – some alien, but mostly human – through a sliding door into the facility while she narrates the history of the restored, but largely rebuilt complex through a hard-light headset on one side of her cheek. I'm hardly paying attention to what she's saying while I'm looking around at the smooth, metallic surfaces and curiously closed doors lining the halls and corridors.

 

She eventually leads us towards an open courtyard in the facility's center where there's a gleaming statue of Commander Shepard in the middle of a curved wall with countless scrolling, digital names of those Alliance soldiers reported KIA or MIA during the Reaper War. They depict Commander Shepard with her N7 helmet held under one arm and a pistol gripped in the opposite hand with a look of grim determination on her metallic faux features clad in her favored N7 hard-suit. This Commander Shepard is completely foreign to me. She doesn't look anything like the default Jane, and I'd never played a single game with her. She destroyed the Reapers and lived to tell the tale though, and she's a walking legend because of it.

 

I find myself focusing back on the tour guide when I notice her speaking about the infamous Shepard, “...and Captain Shepard honorably retired from active duty in the months after the war,” I hear her refer to the Commander with Shepard's newest title afforded to her after the war. I'd read on my omni-tool a little while ago that she had refused admiralty because she had wanted to continue to serve on the Normandy, but due to the injuries she'd sustained in the aftermath of the Citadel's explosion, she ended up not being able to return to active duty. “After the war Captain Shepard continues to serve the Alliance by conferring intelligence that has led to the shutting down of the remaining Cerberus cells. The Normandy, under the direction of Spectre Williams, provided relief to our surviving colonies on the edges of the Traverse, further than most vessels would dare travel before the mass relays were restored, as I'm sure you're all aware,” she continues in a cheery tone despite the topic. “Captain Shepard had retained her Spectre status after the War, but due to her retirement she now serves by analyzing vital intelligence with the Council and Alliance alike.” She takes a breath and leads us closer towards Shepard's statue while walking backwards to keep all our attentions,

 

“On the pedestal of her honorary monument you'll see the names of those who have served with the Captain, both past and present. Of the names listed here, you'll notice several famous names including Tuchanka's savior, Doctor Mordin Solus, the second human Spectre and current Captain of the Normandy, Ashley Williams, and the quarians' youngest Admiral, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. And even the Primarch's son, Spectre Garrus Vakarian, is listed here,” she waves one hand towards the bottom of the statue. “On either side of the monument,” she stretches her arms outwards briefly, “are the names of Alliance personnel who gave themselves to the War effort. Without these brave men and women's sacrifices we could have very well been completely destroyed by the Reapers. Please, take a moment to give honor to their lives, and search for any familiar names amongst their ranks. After all, none of us came away from the War without losing someone, and I thank you on behalf of your family's or friend's sacrifice. We will continue on with the tour in just a few moments. If you have any questions, or need help locating someone's name, please don't hesitate to ask.”

 

I break off from the group of tourists with Jodi and Lyle to look unseeingly at the scrolling bright blue names on the dark screens in the courtyard. The guide had said that no one didn't experience loss during the Reaper War, but what if you weren't even here during the War like us – the Lost Ones? We're set apart from society at large in a way, since we didn't experience the same kind of loss as everyone else did. We have experienced great loss, losing our entire homes, families, friends, but we weren't directly affected by the War in the same way as nearly all other people. We lost due to the War, but due to the Jameson-Effect disturbances that started up after the Reapers had already been shut down. We don't have the hope of seeing a familiar name on these screens – a name of at least one person we lost due to Jameson-Effect and the War.

 

The tour is a little bit more solemn after leaving the memorial, but our guide continues to pepper us with cheery little facts as we wind through the halls of the complex, and eventually return to the visitor's center. She gives us a little farewell speech, wishing us all well and hoping that we enjoyed the personal look at the facility, before leaving us to our devices in front of the center's gift shop. I end up buying a plain white scarf with an embroidered border in Alliance-blue and with their logo stitched at each of the scarf's corners. I tie it around my neck as we're leaving the center, with the knot of it at the back of my neck and hidden by my hair, while I spy Jodi scarfing down a power bar she had bought at the shop.

 

“I have ta go ta work,” she says around her mouthful of food, “Let's get outta here my lovelies.”

 

Lyle and I end up walking her to the transit hub, waving our goodbyes and promising to behave, and then suddenly we're _alone_ in Vancouver, a place that might as well be as familiar to us as the surface of the moon.

 

“Umm,” I blink up at Lyle with the knowledge that I'm responsible for the kid, and that he trusts me to look out for him. “Wanna look around and figure out something to do on the way?” Yep, that's the best I could come up with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two!

Lyle gives me a shrug and a quick 'sure' before we set off in a random direction. We end up having lunch at some recently opened asari-human owned equivalent of a diner, doing some rather tourist-y shopping at the booths and stands dotted along the streets and placing our purchases to be shipped to our quarters at JEM, and we even came across a pop-up theater where we caught a showing of the original Blasto. It was _awesome_ – infinitely better in both special effects and sound quality than any of the movies I'd seen back home. At it was shown outside in an empty parking lot between two re-fab trailers. 200-years worth of improved technology really shows through the scope of personal entertainment. Lyle, being from a slightly more advanced society than the one I'm from, was even giddy in awe by the time we'd left the theater. We swore to each other to find another one and see another vid as soon as we could. It was _that_ breathtaking of an experience.

 

We walk slowly along the street outside the theater, heading in no particular direction, until Lyle stops me with a hand briefly nudging my shoulder.

 

“Hey,” he says, “there's a vid-game store – look.”

 

I follow the direction he's pointing in to see a couple of people meandering outside of a brightly lit shop with a large holographic advertisement of the newest Commander Shepard vid-game in one of the wide windows. “You wanna take a look?” I ask without really having to – Lyle's practically vibrating in excitement. I rub my hands down my thighs, paying extra attention to my left hip. Sitting in the theater's garden chairs had helped ease the strain of all the earlier walking on my still-tender joints and bones, but I really hadn't expected to spend so much time on my feet. It seems like Lyle's determined to spend the _entire_ day exploring the city, and though sitting had helped relieve the pressure on my bones, it also gave my joints a chance to lock up a bit. I look around a moment, and I spy a homey looking bar-restaurant, advertising it's menu in English, French, and what appears to be one of the more common asari dialects, just a few shops down from the game store. I could do with a drink to help ease my pain, and maybe have a chance to work out a few of the kinks in my joints before we start walking in earnest again.

 

“Why don't you go on in there?” I look up towards him, “I'll be at...” I trail off and look towards the restaurant, “The Enduring Cosmos... Bar and Eatery... Ping me when you're done, and I'll meet you at the store. Okay?” I ask with a raised brow.

 

His brows twitch upwards in a look of surprise, “Okay,” he drawls the word. “You feeling alright, Karie?”

 

“Hip hurts a bit,” I admit with a small frown. “I'll be okay. Just... go shopping. I'll meet up with you.”

 

“If you're sure...” He trails off and it takes a little bit more coaxing to convince him that, yes, I think he's plenty capable of going shopping for vid-games on his own, even though we don't know the area. And, no, I don't need any help, I can walk, I just need to take it easy for a little bit.

 

I enter the dimly lit restaurant and glance around to see only a few other patrons about, being as the dinnertime rush hasn't hit quite yet. I move towards the bar, only wanting a drink and not wanting a meal, and sit atop a round, lightly cushioned barstool. I have to use one of the rungs between the bar stool's legs to hoist myself up into the set, being that they're designed with multi-species in mind. They're taller than most bar stools back home, for long-legged turians and salarians, and with wide enough seats that the larger-boned species can sit comfortably on their flat surfaces. I look around and spy someone further down ordering their drink, and not knowing what to do, I mimic their actions. I drum my fingers on the bar top, along the holographic interface for the menu, and pull up the list of levo alcoholic drinks. I select my order with a tap of my finger and a confirmation at the bottom of the menu before the hard-light interface blinks out of existence. I had chosen a strawberry ale, something I was pleasantly surprised they'd had. It was one of my favorites back home, and something my father would always bring me as a peace offering if we'd had a fight, or even something he'd gift me with when we hadn't been talking due to busy lives or the like. The ale was always an olive branch with him.

 

Feeling a bit nostalgic, I turn on my omni-tool and take a quick glance at the holos I'd taken of the pictures saved in my cellphone, before it inevitably died. I don't have any pictures of my parents on it, and it's something I regret. Granted, I didn't know I'd be sucked up in some time-space reality shift with no way of seeing them ever again, but I would've liked at least one picture of them. I should've taken a picture of them. I'm startled out of my reverie when the bartender slides a tall chilled glass filled with amber liquid in it in front of me with a warm smile. I nod by way of thanks, and turn off my omni-tool with a quick swipe of my fingers before sliding the glass closer towards me with the same hand. I take a sip of the ale, and notice there's something about it distinctly different from the cheap bottled ales back home. This drink was 25-credits though, which I don't really know if that's a fair price or not, but I'd only wanted something mild and something familiar to drink.

 

I set the glass down and absently play with the edge while I take a glance at the other people sitting at the restaurant's bar again, and this time paying closer attention. Three humans are in full Alliance uniforms, one person's wearing an Alliance jacket over what looks like sports wear, and the last two I notice are alien – a batarian and an asari, though they're not sitting together. Five years after the War, and I know there's still tensions between the batarians and humans over the Relay Shepard had to blow up, and the history between them that goes back even further than that, and for those reasons, and not wanting to step on any toes with my curious glances, I only spend a handful of seconds taking in the batarian's unique features before glancing away to the hard-light vid-screens lining the back of the bar. Most are tuned to sports or news stations, but I only spare a little of my attention on them. One of my hands has drifted down to my left hip, rubbing the jut of bone, or what was once bone, in small circles to ease the muscles and nerves acting up along the implant. I grunt when I come to a particularly tender place along the curve where my hip meets my thigh, metal meeting bone, and nearly spit the ale I had just sipped. I quickly rub away the moisture from my lips with my other hand, and ease up on the pressure on that area by gliding my hand down to my knee while I shift my weight on my seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. I seriously hope that these little aches and pains will go away in time. I've been taking it too easy in the gym lately, apparently, if some extended walking can cramp me up like this.

 

“Hip injury, I take it?” I startle a bit at the unexpected voice, a deep dual-toned sound reverberating in my eardrums, and I turn towards the person who'd, unknowingly on my part, taken a seat next to me while I'd been preoccupied with my hip. I feelingly realize that I shouldn't have been surprised to see a turian sitting beside me, given that that voice is impossible for a human to replicate naturally, but I'm still struck wide-eyed at the sight all the same.

 

_Oh my God – act norma_ l, I chastise myself and have to swallow, twice, before I can put words and thought to this person's, err, turian's question. “Um, yeah,” I stutter a bit. “Car accident. I was hit by a car.”

 

_Normal_ , I warn myself and feel my hand clench against my knee. _Don't stare_. But... It's a turian, an actual turian, sitting next to me, and I can't help but to nervously take in his appearance. And yes, he's a he based on the length of his fringe and the sharper angles of his face as compared to his female counterpart I'd learned of at JEM. His plates are black, an onyx background with a slight silvery iridescence, and dark brown hide beneath equally black scales on what I can see of his neck above his clothes and around his cat-like yellow eyes. The texture of his hide, skin, whatever, looks rough and leathery from even this distance, and his plates and scales look smooth at the tops and just the slightest bit rougher at their edges and angled sides where they meet. His dark facial plates are boldly marked with thick white colony marks beneath his eyes that run down along either side of his nose and mouth to end at his chin. I'm surprised at just how much detail I can take in, what with my internal mantra of 'don't stare' playing over and over in my mind, reminding me not to be rude.

 

I don't think I'd completely succeeded at that though, because I'm roused out of my thoughts at a reverberating deep chuckle from the turian beside me – at least I hope that's a chuckle. His mandibles are the slightest bit splayed, showing the very edges of gleaming, and very sharp looking teeth. I know next to nothing about turian expressions, and so I don't know if I've offended him with my glances. “Sorry!” I hastily squeak out while nervously bringing my hands to twine together on the bar top's surface. “I-I didn't mean, to, um, stare. I just, um,” _oh my God, would you act normal_ , “I just... Think you look cool.” I could hit my head against the bar top in mortification. Repeatedly. I cannot believe I'd just said that.

 

His mandibles clack together with a dull sound, and I force myself to keep my eyes trained on his and not wander. Like some sort of creepy... weird human with no inter-species social skills. Ugh. “Huh,” he muses with slight movements of his mouth and mandibles that move in a pattern that doesn't align with the words I'm hearing like a human's lips would. He leans closer, and I force myself not to jerk away from him in response to his sudden nearness. I've been rude enough. “Are those cybernetics in your irises?”

 

I release a slow breath, and tension I hadn't know had crept up on me rolls off my shoulders. He's only curious about my eyes, like I'm curious about his... turian-ness. I can handle that. “Yeah,” I reply with something like a smile playing on my lips. “I'm naturally near-sighted. They... fix that,” I explain as simply as I can.

 

“Hmm,” he hums and leans back, though with a rather straight posture. He clears his throat, or at least that's what I think that sound is, and says with a little sheepishness in his tone, “I apologize for my curiosity. I'm a field medic, and I, admittedly, don't know as much as I would like about other species' medical care.”

 

“Oh,” a quick laugh bubbles out of my throat. “You'd have fun with my medical records then.” When he looks at me, meeting his gaze steadily to mine with only one mandible the slightest bit splayed, I take his expression for the turian equivalent of a raised brow, and I hasten to clarify. “I'm more metal than bone on my left side... because of the car accident. Also have a bone-weave.”

 

“Wow. That's... impressive,” he comments with good-humor laced in his tone. He lifts one three-fingered hand in my direction, again shortening the distance between us, and says simply, “Darryn Caoilainn.”

 

It takes me a moment longer than it ought to for me to realize that Darryn Caoilainn is his name and not a glitch on my translator's part. I reach out then, willing my hand to be steady but knowing it's not, and loosely wrap my much smaller hand around his gloved three-fingered one. This is surreal. I'm shaking hands with a turian.

 

I can't help the goofy smile that overtakes my face at something so simple, and yet so novel at the same time. My hand lingers in his, because _holy shit_ I'm having a moment, and I say in an airy voice, “I'm Karie.”

 

Both his mandibles are splayed apart again, and I've connected the dots and I will wholeheartedly assume that's a smile, and he says, “Nice to meet you Karie.”

  


“Lyle!” I call out when I reach the kid loitering in front of the vid-game store. I can't help the slight bounce to my step as I walk towards him, hip pain be damned. “I met someone,” I announce with that grin I've been hard-pressed to lose still stretching my face and coloring my voice.

 

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise as he looks towards me. “Okay,” he drawls. “People meet people all the time.”

 

“Not like this person I just met,” I say with that smile still plastered on my face. “I just had an entire conversation with a turian field-medic about my _bones_.”

 

“That's... nice?” he says though it sounds more like a question.

 

“More than 'nice'. Did you hear what I said?” I ask while bouncing a little in place in my overwhelming excitement, “'I shook his hand!”

 

“Okay,” he blinks at me totally unimpressed. So, a couple hours mingling with the populace makes Lyle immune to all things alien? Or... maybe he's just trying not to make a scene. Am I making a scene? He continues by pointing at the wrist with his omni-tool implant, “I bought _Spectres and Rifles II_.”

 

I frown at the turn in conversation. “Fine... I can take a hint. Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

 

By the time we make it back to JEM with the shadows of dusk just playing at the edges of the sky and a noticeable track of garbage scattered along the edges of the streets from the day's commuters and the like, our earlier purchases have already arrived and been stacked just outside our quarters' doors. It was strange to be back in the familiar walls of the facility for those first few moments coming in from the city. Now that I know what it's like outside the walls, the place feels... cramped and rather plain in comparison. And that was only Vancouver we were exploring, and far from all of it. There's a whole planet, several planets, and the Citadel out there. An entire galaxy of places to see and explore and... damn. I can't even properly imagine just how much there is out there. Just how many options there are with places and things to see.

 

I still ache for the familiar though, and after I've pulled the few boxes and bagged goods I'd bought with my little, though generous, stipend into my small room, I rifle through them until I've pulled out a box with English and Salarian lettering printed on it. The jacket I pluck out of the box is startlingly similar to the black and grey plaid of the jacket of mine that was destroyed in the car accident that heralded my being here, but in a cut and material that's very different from the thick fabric of my old one. It has a collar though, full sleeves, and falls to my knees, and it's as close as I could get just by browsing today. It's enough to remind me of home, remind me of the things I've lost, though it brings me a small comfort.

 

I slide it on, sit on my cot and quickly turn on my omni-tool. The music I initiate that filters through to the implant that acts as my translator is about two-hundred years old and poor in quality in comparison to the music popular now, but it's the very same crap I used to listen to back home. It took me a long time to track down my old songs in the incomplete and hemorrhaging extranet archives, but it was worth every second to feel connected to who I was and where'd I come from, if only in music. As I drown in the sounds of _Disturbed_ blaring through my ears while I sit with my jacket comforting against my back pressed to the cool plaster of the wall behind me. I run my fingers over the nickel on the chain around my neck beneath my scarf, and I'm both simultaneously elated from the day's events and saddened by an overwhelming feeling of being alone.

 

I'll have to make my way to Dr. Greene soon for a pain killer due to my sore and cramping muscles. And then he'll notify the physical therapist, and he's going to have my hide and probably more than agree with me that I have to push myself in my workout routines more, but even so, having those people in my life, and the other people I've come to call friends, Jodi and Lyle, it's still... it's not the same.

 

I miss home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's gonna be a lot of time jumps these next two chapters in journal entries. But! As the story progresses there will be more first POV and less journal entries. 
> 
> Thanks for reading all! :)

_20:12 7.10.2192 Note Entry_

 

Jodi and I were talking today, and I think she was put up to it, not the talking but the subject, by the Director. She wanted to know if I had any idea of what I'd plan to do after leaving JEM. And that reminded me that this isn't forever – that one day I'll leave these walls and be out in the city and worlds beyond forever. Forever, and without the familiarity of routine and without any of the familiar faces of the people here. My life will be in my hands. Totally. Completely.

 

It won't be like I'll be tossed out onto the curb though. I have a way of contacting these people and they'll do their best to set me up for success rather than the alternative of falling flat on my face in some ditch on Omega robbed blind and bloody. Which is what happened to subject 36, and is one of the reasons why JEM even exists in the first place. It's more of a start than a lot of people have, especially in the poorer parts of Earth and the colonies beyond. Vancouver is absolutely thriving and wealthy in comparison, and JEM has resources that many don't.

 

I don't know what I want to do _after_ though.

 

I'd explained to Jodi that I worked in pediatrics before this, and that I'd like to work with kids again if I can. I'd told her I've been volunteering at hospitals, schools, and fire departments since I was a teenager and I'd like to help people. It honestly feels... weird not to have anyone to help; not to have anyone that needs me. She smiled broadly, clasped me on the shoulder, and then asked me if I'd wanted to stay on Earth. I hesitated before asking her why. I'd... I'd like to see other places, true, but I'd like to stay near the familiar, if I can. Near Jodi and Lyle... the only two friends I have. I'd wondered why Jodi would ask me if I'd wanted to leave here – Vancouver and Earth. Does she not want me to stay around here? To have the option to travel though... to see places I could only dream up or have only seen in a video game... She leaned in and whispered in my ear as if it were some big secret, and said that the Director thinks I'd be a good fit for the C.R.E., the Citadel Relief Effort.

 

She said that if I'd wanted career training, now would be the time to start. Jodi said by this point in her own experience as a newer Lost One, she had decided that she had wanted to continue to work with JEM. That she didn't know enough about this reality to really care one way or another about seeing other worlds or meeting other species, and that she didn't care overmuch to learn about them either. That she wanted to be around people like her, and lend a friendly ear and a smile to those she knows that could really do with one. She said she gets enough of a look at the galaxy by serving the customers at the café, and she isn't of mind to see beyond this place she now calls home. She said I'm different though, and that she could tell I was itching for a more 'galactic experience'.

 

Why the C.R.E. though? Why the Citadel?

 

Jodi told me the Director would be requesting my presence tomorrow, and that Ms. T'Reye could answer my questions about 'that place' better than she could.

 

I cornered Lyle when he got back from having dinner in the city with other Lost Ones cleared for off-campus visitation during personal time. If Lyle's further along here in JEM than I am, adjusting faster in this place, then I'd thought he'd probably already had a similar meeting with the Director. He'd probably already knew what he wanted to do after JEM, after foster care placement and finishing school. I was right in that guess. Lyle admitted that he wants to join the Alliance when he's seventeen, if his foster parents would sign off on the early recruitment. He said with the gap in education between this time and his, that he doesn't have much hope of doing anything else as important, meaningful. He wants to see the galaxy, too. The Alliance can give him that opportunity, and he had seemed pretty determined. He wants to be a soldier, he wants to see the far corners of the galaxy, he wants to help people, and I can't fault him for that. I'd like to do that too, but without a gun in my hands. I'd rather help with a smile and a first aid kit, if I'm able.

 

I did an extranet search of the Citadel Relief Effort on my omni-tool afterwards. They're a non-profit organization run by a staff of full-time employees and volunteers that help the many displaced and wayward civilians that've found themselves on the rebuilt Citadel one way or another. They advertised that a high number of those they serve are veterans from every major galactic military service, the elderly with no savings or family to help them after the War, duct rats and former orphans or other homeless, quarians on Pilgrimage from Rannoch, and the general needy who can't find work or who are just down on their luck. They offer shelter, food, job placement assistance, and even childcare services for parents who can't afford daycare. They have a food bank for steady groceries and a kitchen that offers fresh meals for both chiralities four times daily, since the Citadel Wards don't have a set day-night cycle – it's always daytime there, except on the Presidium where it's set to a Thessian day-night schedule. The C.R.E. offers free transportation services to clinics and hospitals who've aligned themselves with them, and offer sporadic medical services on-site at their various locations, depending on volunteering medical personnel. They even offer maintenance services for the geth. It looks like it's a growing and already influential organization, and I wonder at what I could possibly do to contribute to such an effort. Why does the Director think it's a 'good fit'?

  


_15:02 8.12.2192 Note Entry_

 

I had an interview with a krogan warlord named Arvo, the head of the C.R.E.. He started the foundation, which I, admittedly wasn’t expecting, even though I'd never heard of a krogan doing something like that in the games. But he manages all four branches of the organization. The whole thing was as amazing as it was intimidating. He asked me why I wanted to join the C.R.E., and I said because I want to help people, that I've always wanted to help people, and... he stared at me for a minute, calculating almost, before he asked me who "people" were to me. Which in retrospect makes since, since I'm sure he doesn't want racists working for him, but at the time it had confused me. People are people, even here I've expanded my definition to include everyone regardless of species, but I don't think I could have ever thought differently. I've been out on my own and with other Lost Ones several times now, in Vancouver, but even though we're on Earth there's still so much diversity here. It just doesn't make sense in a world with so many sentient species, or galaxy I should say, to not include others in such a definition.

 

_08:23 17.12.2192 Note Entry_

 

He gave me the job. The Director just told me. At the time of my release from JEM, I'll have a job. When I leave here, I'll be going to the Citadel... When I leave. Jesus.

 

_07:42 20.12.2192 Note Entry_

 

I'm afraid to leave. I am. I mean, there's just so much I don't know. I've taken the classes, sure, but this is a whole different world than I'm used to. Where I'm from. Back home I had my family to fall back on, but what do I have here? A few doctors, teachers, therapists — people who want to help, and have, but have no real investment in my well-being or personal success. I know I have my friends, but one's a kid and the other's made a life for herself here. And I'll have no one when I leave this place. When I leave these people.

 

Some of the people here celebrate the holidays. There's going to be a party. I'm helping to decorate. I should just... focus on that. For now.

 

God, sometimes I just wonder what's happening at home. I can't help it. We're not even religious, but still. We celebrate some of the major holidays for the sake of tradition. This will be my first Christmas without them. And their first Christmas without me. With me missing. With no trace or explanation. Does it make sense for me to feel guilty over something I had no control over? Because I do.

 

_18:03 7.1.2193 Note Entry_

 

A social worker came by today. He spoke with Lyle. The kid told me they're going to start the process of placing him with a foster family. I'm not sure what I feel. I'm glad he'll be safe, he'll have a family again or something close to it, but will I lose half of the closest thing to a family I have in the process? ...That sounds so selfish.

 

_10:11 13.1.2193 Note Entry_

  
Lyle asked me to adopt him. Is that even something I can do?


	6. Chapter 6

_20:45 24.2.2193 Note Entry_

 

It seems like I haven't written in this journal in forever. It's because of everything lately... I was able to register Lyle as a dependent and there were court issues, but let's just say that I have co-guardianship rights with the Riveras - Lyle's foster parents. I don't have custody of Lyle, that's something the city of Vancouver has, but I have rights to him. As I understand it, it's similar in what rights his foster parents have, but different since he'll be living with them. The courts pretty much granted me rights as an act of kindness and sympathy for our situation. I wasn't expecting something more than that. Actually something less, but it's something still. It means a lot to us both.

 

_10:38 25.2.2193 Note Entry_

 

Lyle asked me if it was okay if he called me his sister. I almost cried.

 

_07:15 13.3.2193 Note Entry_

 

Lyle's moving in with the Riveras today. There's going to be a party for him. He's graduating from JEM and moving on as an integrated member of this society.

 

_06:33 27.4.2193 Note Entry_

 

Jodi's helping me pack. She and Lyle are going to see me off at the skyport tomorrow. I graduated last night, and now it's my turn to move on. I feel... content. It's probably the best reaction I think I could have to finally facing... well, all of this. Everything. This reality. All the possibilities. Having a kind of freedom I've never truly had before. No strings, no obligations but the ones I create, just chance.

 

Dr. Greene hugged me. He told me to trust fate to take me on the right path.

 

_09:03 28.4.2193 Note Entry_

 

Space is... unlike anything I could have imagined and everything I could have ever hoped for. It felt, it feels, like nothing. There was some turbulence when we left Earth's atmosphere, but it didn't feel like anything more than the jarring of an airplane during take off or landing. There's port windows here though for observation, and I've been glued to them. Even here while I'm writing this, it's just me and a few of the kids crowding these seats and hardly taking our eyes off the windows, never mind that we're traveling at speeds so fast that shapes and colors are indistinguishable.

 

My dad would have loved this. He loved scifi so much that whenever we watched something like Star Wars or After Earth he would go on and on about how he wanted a spaceship and what size it would need to be and what design is best and... hell, I haven't thought about him in what feels like forever. Does that make me a terrible person? Here I am in an unbelievable place with not just the world, but the entire galaxy before me, and everyone on Earth Delta is oblivious to this place, to what it truly means to be traveling at the speed of light, to what it means to know an alien species, to live in a galactic society. To what it is to have this kind of life. These opportunities. And what am I doing? The C.R.E.? Is this all I can do here?

 

* * *

 

I nearly spill the water I was sipping when we come off the mass relay. But I look towards the window by my seat and I hear gasps from the kids around me, and there it is - the Citadel. A few people let out happy whoops at the sight.

 

This trip took the better part of two days, what with working relay coverage being so spotty after the war and all the stops for refueling this little passenger ship had to make. I heard from a few of the other passengers that before the war this trip would only take a day on a faster and better quality ship. But the war destroyed much, including good ships, so I'm not complaining. Especially since I'm pretty sure two days to travel about a quarter of the galaxy sounds pretty good to me.

 

Nerves wreck me the closer the Citadel comes into view though. Little bits of doubt still claw at me, even now. I think it was made worse by all the recent thoughts about the family I've unwillingly left behind. I can't help but wonder if I'm making the best of this life I now have, or if I'm just making due. What happened was fucked up, I know that like nothing else, but I also know that there's opportunity for something good to come out of all this chaos. I'm just not totally convinced the C.R.E. is that good thing.

 

Sooner than I'd like we're going through docking procedures. Despite the back and forth of my thoughts, I do know that I _cannot_ wait to get out of here and take a shower. There was no way I was using a communal sonic shower on this thing. I don't even know what a sonic shower is.

 

I remember at the last minute to write to Jodi and Lyle on my omni-tool and let them know I've made it before I start gathering my things.

 

I listen to the crew's instructions on leaving the ship before filing out after the other passengers. We're all heading to customs, and so while I'm waiting in line, I slide my suitcase in front of me and get a head start on pulling up my identifiers, passport, and worker's permit from the Earth databases. My identifiers actually have my real place of birth and birth-date on them, although there is a special designation on it that pretty much puts my Earth residency as "awarded"" and not "natural" as other people that've been born on Earth have. Any information that isn't easily explainable in legal documentation is listed as "redacted". I wasn't sure if having my actual birth year listed, and not an adjusted one, would have been a problem, but I was assured by the Director that my status overall should be satisfactory for the customs officers. Admittedly, my worker's permit had taken awhile to be approved, due to it being marked for analysis by C-Sec. So I guess there's already a file in C-Sec on me because of it.

 

The line is long, and so I take a moment to look around and take in my surroundings. There's skycars and spaceships all around, children crying, people yelling in so many languages that my translator implant doesn't catch all the words, people in various uniforms unloading and loading ships, and officers in dark blue uniforms patrolling with pistols clipped to their hips. It's equal parts surreal and overwhelming, so I welcome the ping on my omni-tool when it comes.

 

_Jodi: Take pictures! And you better keep us in the loop!_

 

I decide not whipping out my camera on my omni-tool around all these strangers and C-Sec officers is probably the best idea, but her message still makes me smile, and I feel a little stress ebb from my shoulders at the knowledge that the communication buoys are working well enough that I can still keep good communication with people on Earth. I had worried about that, before. I just fire off a quick reply and get back to waiting.

 

The intake customs officer that I go up to is a drell, and I honestly try not to stare but I'm sure I don't completely succeed. I have yet to meet a drell in person, so it was something. Despite the assurances by the Director that my documents should be good enough, I'm still flagged for additional questioning, and I'm pretty much sure I turn into a gigantic ball of nerves while I'm following the officer into one of the interrogation rooms. I understand, I would be wary of my documents too, but still.

 

The turian C-Sec officer that interrogates me is brusque, repetitive, and borderline rude, but I answer everything honestly. When he verifies with my references, Director T'Reye and Urdnot Arvo, I'm free to go. I pass through the body scanners, have my luggage separately scanned, and when I walk out under bright white overhead lights into the reception area, the last thing I expected was to find that my escort from the C.R.E. would be my boss, Urdnot Arvo, himself.

 

He notices me as soon as I do him, of course he does, and he makes his way towards me with something that I'm guessing is a smile stretching his thin wide lips. I'm just standing there with my eyes bugging out of my head while I watch people move quickly out of his way. They literally make a path for him - this gigantic krogan with orange skin and wide-set eyes.

 

"Human," he rumbles and extends one humongous hand my way. "I am Urdnot Arvo."

 

I hesitate just briefly before I shake his hand. Well, I shake his hand as best I can, since I'm pretty sure I could only wrap my hand around one of his fingers. But his palm engulfs mine and he does that smiling thing again. "Humans are strange with their titles." He says, "What name do you go by?"

 

"Karie," I squeak out and clear my throat before withdrawing my hand. "You can just call me Karie."

 

He booms a laugh and I try not to flinch.

 

I literally have to crane my neck to look up at him, but he says I'll be working at Zakera C.R.E. and he'll show me to my accommodations.

  
And that's that.

 

I'm officially on the Citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it off Earth this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly sorry for the delayed update! I was sick for a bit, and then life got in the way of fun things like writing. :/ Anywhoo, here's a longer chapter to make up for the wait...? All journal entries here and we'll be covering quite a bit of time too.
> 
> WARNING: brief and not-at-all graphic mentions of animal abuse, minor character death, and rape. Sometimes people in horrible places are not kind to one another. I did not go into detail as to avoid triggers, but I did base the events on my knowledge of the environment in homeless shelters and my own experiences rescuing animals in the past. Apologies if I did not suceed in being vague enough.

_22:08 1.5.2193 Note Entry_

 

I work in the kitchens.

 

Don't get me wrong, it's amazing to be here - insane almost - but I still didn't exactly expect to be sorting food and popping meals in heating units for a living. My 'accommodations' are in the shelter unit of the Zakera C.R.E. branch adjacent to C-Sec. It's crowded, borderline depressing with the state of people in here, and _everything_ is public and communal.

 

Everything.

 

What the everliving fuck am I doing with my life?

 

21: _22 5.5.2193 Note Entry_

There's a girl here. She's Canadian. She goes by Fifi. And she said she's "adopted" me as a "new best friend" because her old best friend "is a twat".

 

I apparently have no say in this.

 

_21:08 6.5.2193 Note Entry_

 

Fifi's okay. She punched this guy who tried to grab my ass and then preceded to swear at him in languages I don't even know and my translator had difficulty with. And she works in the C.R.E. daycare with children.

 

_20:58 20.5.2193 Note Entry_

 

Arvo called me to his office today and asked me how I'm adjusting.

 

I told him I'm still getting used to the longer days and the lack of a real day-night cycle, but then he asked about my job.

 

I was nervous about admitting it, but I told him I had hoped to be doing something more meaningful. I told him I know what I'm doing is great for people in need, and I'm sure they really appreciate it, but that I'm not sure if it's the best place for me.

 

He said he's aware of my past work history, and he advised me that there would be opportunities for advancement in my future if I showed him what I can do.

 

I'm not really sure what that means.

 

_18:43 11.6.2193 Note Entry_

 

I rescued a box of varren pups.

 

This nut that came into the shelter hurt one before I could stop him. I'm not sure what he thought he was trying to do with an omni-blade an a box of puppies, but I took a leaf out of Fifi's book and acted without fully thinking. I wasn't really sure what all I did to the guy, but Arvo was so excited he showed me the security footage _four_ times.

 

Seems like I grabbed the box of puppies before the guy lunged at me and I grabbed a hold of one of his mandibles, and because of my bone weave it was enough force to dislocate both his mandible and his jaw.

 

I felt real bad about it, but the guy didn't press charges (I'm guessing because of Arvo).

 

Arvo's arranging for the puppies to be transported to his clan. I wish I could keep them though. There's this little teal and white one that I think really likes me. After I washed and fed them he curled up on my lap to sleep while his brothers and sisters sprawled out on my bunk.

 

He's really frigging cute for a strange spiky, scaly, alien puppy. I took a picture and sent it to Jodi and Lyle.

 

_19:31 12.6.2193 Note Entry_

 

The teal puppy imprinted on me. At least, that's what Arvo said.

 

I can keep him, but I have to register him at Animal Control and get him chipped. I also have to take a mandatory C-Sec course for people who own registered dangerous animals. Arvo also suggested obedience training.

 

Seems like a lot of work for this cute little guy with big blue eyes and a slobbery tongue. I know he doesn't seem dangerous now, but I do remember from the games how powerful these critters can be. Arvo's people train them for the express purpose of fighting, and there's a good reason for it.

 

I think Arvo likes me a little better because of all this though, and seeing him so excited about me rescuing the puppies makes me feel easier about him, too.

 

I'm thinking about naming this little guy Elvis.

 

_11:09 02.1.2194 Note Entry_

 

This boy was about to be raped in the showers. Elvis and I took care of it, but now we're stuck at C-Sec while I wait to make a statement. Arvo and Fifi said they would come down as character witnesses. Fifi said her girlfriend's okay if I crash at their place tonight. I don't want to stay at the shelter tonight. That was fucked as hell.

 

_06:01 13.1.2194 Note Entry_

 

Today I start my new job as a C.R.E. Health Care Advocate. I'll still volunteer at the kitchens in my free time, and Fifi volunteered to help, but this is a good job. Something I can do good with.

 

_08:12 15.1.2194 Note Entry_

 

I've got eight patients to start with and I'm going to murder their insurance companies. I swear to God.

 

_15:16 2.2.2194 Note Entry_

 

I saw that turian at Huerta earlier today from forever ago. Darryn. The one who came up to me on my first outing in Vancouver when I was still at JEM. He remembered me. I, of course, remembered him like a creeper because he was the first alien, other than the Director, who I'd had an actual conversation with.

 

Anyway. He's a nurse at Huerta now, and we got to talking. And he told me he was looking for a roommate after I told him how I've been saving after my promotion to find a place and finally move out of the shelter. I don't know if he's actually looking for a roommate, or if he's just being nice, but he's got a spare room and he's okay with Elvis. I'm gonna talk with him a little more and hash out a price for rent.

 

_05:25 12.2.2194 Note Entry_

 

Moving today!

 

_20:11 25.3.2194 Note Entry_

 

I set Darryn up with my personal defense instructor. He's adorably nervous. I would be too if I had a date with Alexia.

 

_11:01 30.5.2194 Note Entry_

 

Lyle vid-called me to tell me he got into Alliance Prep school. I'm so proud, but also scared for him. Is that a normal reaction?

 

_05:03 12.6.2194 Note Entry_

 

Dr. Greene called me. Jodi's dead.

 

_20:18 6.9.2195 Note Entry_

 

I got a new patient assigned to me today, and we spoke for some time after his PT session. I told him about this journal, how I used to write important things and other nonsensical things about my life since I became a Lost One in it. He keeps an audio diary on his 'tool. And he asked me why I stopped writing. I didn't have a very good reason. I just... stopped. After Jodi's death. She had OD'd on red sand, and I didn't even know she was using. I didn't even know when she'd started, if it was before I met her, or what. Or why I didn't know. Why I didn't see.

 

Han Drey said that we cannot suffer the guilt of another's misdeeds. He said we cannot right something that we ourselves did not make wrong.

 

He said I should write again because it might be a balm to my spirit.

 

This guy has Keprel's syndrome and he's just so kind. It's so unfair. But then again, life rarely is fair.

 

_19:58 12.9.2195 Note Entry_

 

I'm trying to get a lung transplant approved for Mr Drey. Even a single lung transport would expand his life expectancy dramatically, according to the salarian literature I've been pouring over. It's going to be a long process considering the only form of medical payment he can make is from back-pay through the Hanar government, and even with the assistance of C.R.E. funding, I'll be lucky to get blood transfusions approved for him. He's only been taking pain meds and aerosol breathing treatments since he's been diagnosed.

 

_21:03 2.10.2195 Note Entry_

 

Lyle's trying to arrange with his foster parents for me to spend the holidays with them. I have some vacation time stored up, but they're nervous about a varren in the house.

 

_13:02 31.10.2195 Note Entry_

 

It's Halloween. Mr Drey found my witch's hat highly amusing. Darryn was just confused about human customs, again. At least he didn't see Fifi's slutty nurse getup. I think he would've been embarrassed.

 

But, it is the first Halloween I've celebrated since being here. It's fun.

 

_22:13 24.12.2195 Note Entry_

 

It's so strange to be on Earth again after all this time. To see an actual sun, clouds, feel the wind against my skin and ruffling my hair, the crunch of snow underfoot, the smell of pine cones and pine needle garland. A night sky. There's just so much you can take for granted living on the Citadel. I didn't think I would forget things like the color of the moon in a cloudy night sky or the cold bite of snow against the tips of my fingers, but I have.

 

It's surreal, almost.

 

Elvis loves the snow. He's tuckered out sleeping at my feet with a threadbare plaid blanket I've tossed over him while I'm writing this. Lyle's getting hot apple cider.

 

He's so tall. He's grown so much since I've last seen him, and he's even more convicted of his life's path than ever. He was so happy to see me, and I him. He showed me all his awards and certificates, and chattered on and on about all his classes. His friends. He has so many stories. I'm so proud of him. He's such a good kid.

 

The Riveras have two other foster kids in the house, but they're both real young. They were playing with Elvis in the snow earlier, long before Elvis tired himself out. They were throwing snow balls and he was catching them. It reminded me of my dog, D.O.G., when I was a kid. He would chase after snow balls, and if he didn't catch them and they fell into the snow he'd get so confused when he couldn't find them. It was cute. Me and my sisters spent forever playing with him like that.

 

I miss him. I miss them. But this is nice too.

 

_17:28 26.12.2195 Note Entry_

 

I took Lyle with me when I went to go visit the cemetery Jodi's ashes are at. We stood there for a long time.

 

_10:46 5.1.2196 Note Entry_

 

I just got back and I find out Mr Drey's condition has worsened so bad that he's currently being hospitalized. I'm getting him a transfer to Huerta ASAP.

 

_07:10 10.1.2196 Note Entry_

 

I took the day off to spend time with Mr Drey. He taught me drell prayers for when he passes, and I promised him I would do my best to get him a lung transplant. I really, really hope I can keep that promise.

 

_09:42 22.1.2196 Note Entry_

 

I was able to get lymbic medi-gel infused blood transfusions approved for Mr Drey. They should hopefully slow his Keprel's, but it's not a cure.

 

_20:12 25.3.2196 Note Entry_

  
Han Drey didn't make it. I couldn't get the lung transplant approved and the lymbic medi-gel infused blood transfusions weren't enough to stilt the aggressive progression of his Keprel's. He suffocated to death in his hospital bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1st POV present time

“ _Karie_ ,” Fifi sings my name, wraps her arms around my shoulders from behind, and kisses me on the cheek. I turn my head to frown at her while she props her chin on the top of my shoulder. She took me to Purgatory to 'drink away all the bad things' after work. After I'd told her about what's been bothering me. In my failing getting Mr. Drey the medical treatment he needed to stay alive. “Nisdeen pinged me. She got off shift early.” She hugs me tighter and I can barely hear her soft words over the bass in the bar's music, “I'm gonna meet up with her.”

 

“You're leaving?” I ask in a voice a few octaves too high and my hand tightening around my strong, fruity asari cocktail. “But you're the one who wanted to go here.”

 

“But it's Nisdeen,” she pouts dramatically.

 

“Choosing your girlfriend over your best friend,” I scrunch up my nose at her and wiggle my shoulders in a playful attempt to dislodge her. “I see how you are.”

 

She laughs brightly, kisses my cheek again, and turns around to push through the throng of the bar's patrons without another word, but she gives me a little wave just before she disappears completely from sight. I sigh and take a gulp of the sweet and bright liquor in the slim glass I'm still clenching, and twist my body to turn more fully towards the bar top. I sigh again and mutter to myself, “I need better friends.”

 

I hear a rather loud snort coming from beside me, and I swivel in my seat again to raise a brow at the girl next to me. I prop my head in the palm of my hand, the alcohol warm in my veins and making me a little more bolder than normal while I continue to look at the girl with one eyebrow raised expectantly. I watch while she thumbs the edge of her drawn hood before shrugging. “I'm familiar with the sentiment,” she says and shrugs again before taking a sip of her beer.

 

I pull my glass closer and consider the girl who's been sitting at the bar since before Fifi and I got here. She has long, thin ruddy hair just touching her shoulders beneath her plain, and clearly worn, blue hoodie. Other than that, she's drank about three, maybe four beers since I've been here, and she's been quiet the whole time until Fifi left. It doesn't look like she's waiting for anyone, and it doesn't look like she plans on leaving any time soon. She doesn't look interested in dancing – that cane leaning against the bar near her knee might have something to do with it. Hell, I decide to try talking to the girl. It's not like I plan on leaving any time soon either.

 

“What did your friends do?” I ask, curl my hands around my glass before sitting it atop my knee while I cross my legs and face the stranger. I need something to get my mind off of today. God knows I can never keep my thoughts straight on my own.

 

“Left me behind on the Citadel.” There's a rueful smile on her face when she tilts her head to look at me, and there's a gleam in her silvery eyes when she shrugs again. “Not like they had much of a choice, though. And neither did I.”

 

“They just left you here?” I gasp in shock. Who would do that?

 

“Ah, that came out wrong.” She rubs the back of her neck and turns a bit in her seat by pushing off the bar top with her hand. “They didn't really leave me, so much as I couldn't go with them. I was, ah, offered a job here. That I took.”

 

My face scrunches up briefly in confusion, “But you said you didn't have a choice.”

 

The hand on her neck tugs a bit at the back of her hood. “Not many options for a cripple. I took what I could get.”

 

My eyes flick down to her cane and then take in the slope of her broad shoulders, her slim, steady hands, and too-straight posture. “There's options for veterans,” I start. She has that soldier-y look to her. I'd bet money I don't have that she was injured in the War. “Many places offer benefits and decent pay for former military.” I lean forward, closer to her, close enough to smell her lack of perfume and see the stains of wear in her hoodie, and a little honest concern leaches into my voice. “I work for the C.R.E. I could help you if you need it.”

 

“Thank you,” she smiles, but it looks a little unpracticed on her face. “But, I don't, um, need the help. My job pays well, it's just... not what I'd imagine I'd be doing when I retired. If I ever retired from the Alliance.”

 

I nod in understanding. She's career military. One of those people who'd gotten displaced after the War because of injuries or being discharged for one reason or another. Quite a few have come through C.R.E.'s doors. And only after they'd fought through their own messes to seek out help when they'd exhausted their own options. “Here,” I flick on my omni-tool and find the signal from the girl next to me before sending over my contact information to her. “If you change your mind, just let me know.” She startles, but opens her 'tool and accepts the contact swap in the next moment. I smile while I look at the name 'Harmony S.' in bright orange letters in my contacts. “Harmony,” I turn that smile of mine on her. “The C.R.E. has more options than most people know. I was surprised when I started workin' there with all the resources we have for people.”

 

Her little smile turns down at the corners some. “I promise, my job's fine,” she chuckles awkwardly and runs her fingers along the edge of her hood again. “But... maybe there's a way I can help you, err, the C.R.E. instead?”

 

My smile grows and I twist my hands around my glass. She wants a job, like I'd thought, but she just doesn't want charity. Stubborn, perhaps – something that keeps people from seeking out help. “Do you own a car- skycar?” I ask and she nods. “My driver took maternity leave about a week ago and I don't have my own resources to transport my patients. My boss has given me a stipend on taxis, but I don't like to make sick people wait at transport hubs. Many of my patients are immuno-compromised,” Han Drey's face flashes briefly before my mind's eye and I will his pain-filled eyes away. “I don't like the risk of them getting more sick. I'd rather get them to their doctor's as quickly as possible.”

 

“Your patients?” Her brows furrow. “What do you do?”

 

“I'm a health care advocate,” I look down at my glass, at my condensation-dampened fingertips. “I work medical cases for people who can't do it on their own. I manage their care, I fight with insurance companies for their medicine, and I handle their bills out of the C.R.E.'s pocket. I visit them at the hospital... spend time with them... talk,” a lump forms in my throat and I ground out without forethought, “I hold their hands and pray for them while they die.”

 

“Shit,” she breathes and I quickly wipe away at the tears welling in my eyes.

 

“Sorry... Sorry,” I shake my head and look up at her apologetically. Way to make the conversation take a dive. “It's just, well,” my shoulders slump. “One of my patients passed a few days ago. Keprel's,” I explain briefly and swallow around the lump again before looking away from the stranger – Harmony. I get too chatty when I drink. I say too much. I say what I shouldn't.

 

“I lost a friend to Keprel's,” I hear her say softly, just barely over the thrum of the music playing in the dance floor above where we're sitting. I look to her again, and I can see the shine of unshed tears in her bright eyes transfixed in memory. “It's a horrible illness.”

 

“Yeah,” I breathe and then we sit in silence with just the buzz of a busy bar around us. “I'm sorry for being such a downer,” I say after a moment.

 

“No, you're fine. I get it,” I watch out of the corner of eye when she reaches over and pats me on the shoulder. I'm assuming she'd intended for it to be comforting, but the gesture is awkward as all hell. “If... if you need that driver, I could drive. My schedule's flexible.”

 

I smile at her. “But you said your job was good. What good job is flexible?”

 

She barks a short laugh. “I work from my apartment,” she explains. “Trust me, it's flexible.”

 

My smile grows. “Hey, thanks. I'll run it by my boss.” I set my glass down, uncross my legs, and lift a hand towards her, “I'm Karie. But, ah, you probably got that on your 'tool already.”

 

She slowly takes my hand and engulfs it in her loose fist while our hands shake, “Uh, I'm, um, just Harmony.”

 

“'Just Harmony,” I grin and I finally notice how drawn she looks beneath the shadow of her hood. “How're you doing?”

 

She withdraws her hand and shrugs again. “Well enough,” she mumbles and takes a drink of her beer again, and I take the moment to take a sip of my own drink and wait for her to elaborate if she chooses to do so, and she does. “My mother told me she's visiting soon. And well, I guess I'm getting worked up over nothing... She fusses though, and well...” she looks briefly down at her cane, “it's tiring.”

 

“You still have your mom?” I ask curiously and take another drink.

 

“I'm guessing by that question that you don't?” She frowns. “Damn. I feel like an ass. Sorry,” she says and looks away.

 

“No, it's okay,” I say and scoot my stool closer to her. “Having family's a good thing. Nothin' to be sorry about.” I latch on to the subject change and just go with it. “What's your mom do?” I peer at her. She's older than me, I can tell that much. Older than me, but I don't know by how much. “You look plenty old enough to not be fussed over. Isn't that what mom's do with their kids, when they're kids?” I try to smile. I'm bad at joking and sarcasm. I should stop.

 

“She just...” She trails off in obvious thought. “Cleans... and talks... and takes me out for lunch.” She frowns more harshly this time. “That's it – I'm an ass.”

 

I laugh outright. “No, you're not.” I reign in my chuckles, “I know asses. You're not an ass.”

 

“How do you know? We just met.”

 

I smile widely at her. “You're not an ass.”

 

Harmony ended up driving me home. She has a pretty decent skycar too, so maybe she's right in that her job does pay well. She still wants to be my driver though, and I'm gonna take her up on that once I get the okay – I don't see how I wouldn't. She just has to pass a background check and fill out a couple forms. And as ex-military, she should be just fine.

 

My omni-tool bleeps with the sound of a ping, and I jump at the noise while I toe off my boots by my apartment's door.

 

_Harmony: You get in okay? You seemed a little unsteady there. Asari drinks are surprisingly strong. They sneak up on you._

 

I stifle a giggle with the back of my hand, determined not to wake up Darryn while I type back a reply.

 

_Karie: I'm good. Don't make me laugh tho. I'm trying not to wake up Dar_

 

I fumbled with the buttons and sent the message before I'd finished it. I shrug at myself and work to take off my jacket and hang it on the antique coat rack - one of the very few things I own that remind me of where I grew up.

 

_Harmony: Dar...?_

 

I giggle again.

 

_Karie: My roommate. Darryn. He works long hours. Wouldn't be nice._

 

_Harmony: Ah. Well then... Have a good night Karie_

 

_Karie: You too Harmony! Good night!! :-) And thanks for the ride!_

  
Do people even do emoticons anymore? I shake my head at myself and trudge off to my room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookie at all the plot! :D  
> All first POV (+ some messages) here!

Fifi perches one of the smaller crates of levo snacks on her hip with one brow raised while I breeze through a recounting of what happened last night after she left the bar.

 

“Is she cute?” She asks with a smirk and pops open the lid of the crate with one of her hands to idly look through the treats while she waits for me to answer.

 

I fidget a bit, and resolutely ignore her goading tone to dig through my coat pockets for my work data-pad. “Well, yeah, I guess,” I huff and barely restrain the urge to roll my eyes. “She has pretty hair. Red. Auburn, maybe.”

 

Her smirk turns into a grin. “And she drove you home? Nothing else?” She pouts playfully, “I need details, Sweets.”

 

“She drove me home... and wrote me.” For some inexplicable reason I feel heat crawl up my cheeks and I turn a bit away from her while I flick on my work data-pad. “It wasn't even bad... I don't know.”

 

“What'd she say?”

 

“She just wanted to make sure I got in my place okay,” I wrap my hands around my data-pad. “I asked her to be my driver, ya know? I still have to run it by Arvo.”

 

“You said she was a vet though, yeah?” She says and plucks a package out of the crate to give it a scrutinizing look, “She should get the job easy. Arvo likes vets. And working with her gives you some time to get me those details,” she sends a wink towards me while I pull up the file labeled 'Desk Notes' on my data-pad. “Hey, did they change the packaging on the Juirk Crisps?”

 

“No idea,” I reply and briefly look over my self-made though boss-approved schedule for the day. “I'm gonna run to Arvo's now. We have a little time before we have to hit the kitchens.”

 

We both look up from our corner in the storage room to see our co-worker Preston, Fifi’s former bestie whom I'd replaced, yawns his way into the room before scooping up one of the freeze-dried foods boxes into his lanky arms. He's the only other human who works the kitchens on the same shift as we do, and Fifi's favorite pastime is to tease the poor guy. “Make sure you get that girl working here,” Fifi says to me while I start to walk away, and with her voice raised plenty loud enough for Preston to hear. “We need some new eye candy!”

 

* * *

 

  _Karie: Hey! If you're still interested in being a C.R.E. driver and helping with the patients, I have a few data-files to send you that my boss needs you to fill out. Not much. One's an application for employment, a background check authorization, and a privacy act form. Arvo (the boss) likes to keep hard files on hand. So if you have any blank data-pads lying around, you can download the files onto it and fill them out then and drop it off at HQ yourself, or I can stop by after shift with the files pre-downloaded for you. Plenty of blank data-pads around here. Let me know if you want to meet up or just have me send them over!_

 

_Harmony: If it's not out of your way, we can meet at my apartment? I have no idea which C.R.E. HQ I should go to. Sorry. I'll send over a waypoint with my address. I'll be home all day. Oh, and yeah. Still interested in being a driver._

 

_Karie: Sorry! I should have mentioned it before. I work at the Zakera branch. Zakera C.R.E. HQ is adjacent to the ward's C-Sec station. Anyway, your place doesn't look out of the way. Shift's over in five hours. Sound good?_

 

_Harmony: Sounds great. See you then._

 

_Karie: See you later then! I'll let you know when I'm on my way._

 

* * *

 

I nearly run from my cubicle to the childcare center. Fifi's class is on nap-time, and so I quietly beckon her to the open doorway with urgent, teasing little pings. It doesn't take much. And I need a distraction from reviewing my report I scratched together yesterday on Han Drey.

 

“I'm going to her apartment after work,” I whisper, conscious of the sleeping children on little cots just a few feet away.

 

Fifi's grin is absolutely devilish when she squeezes my arm, “Remember the details, Sweets.”

 

I shake my head, an impish grin on my face despite myself, “You know how it is for me, Fifs. Dropping off paperwork, but,” and here I let a little bit of nervousness enter my voice while I twist my fingers around the hem of my jacket. “I think... well, I like her, you know? I don't... I don't know. Should I keep it professional?”

 

Fifi's expression turns uncharacteristically sober for a moment. “Do what you think you should. But don't be afraid if she gives you an opening, yeah? If you like her, go for it. And if she turns out to really like you, who you are won't matter. You shouldn't hold back because of who you are." She places a comforting hand on my shoulder, "I haven't seen you really interested in anyone before. This is good for you. Just keep an open mind. Promise me Sweets?”

 

It's times like these I'm _really_ glad I'm friends with Fifi. “Okay, yeah, and thanks.”

 

* * *

 

I'm starting to really wonder if I'd misinterpreted Harmony's situation when I get off the rapid transit near to her apartment complex. It's on Kiothi Ward, a little more than nicer than Zakera, having been one of the first places restored after the war, and on the first level nearest to the Presidium you can get without actually being on the Presidium. The apartment complex – Mercury Towers – is a massive complex of polished metals and glass. It's impressive, tucked away behind a small shopping district and right next to a salarian-designed park on the very edge of the ward, overlooking the bridge and endless stream of traffic leading to and from the Presidium. You can see the faint glimmer of stars just beyond the haze of artificial lighting below the bridge, not like further in the wards where all you can see is neon and lights of various colors as far as you can strain your eyes.

 

I was right in telling her it isn't out of the way – I can easily get a transfer to Huerta from the transit hub here, since I'd promised to meet up with Darryn for dinner. He's trying to be a good friend to me, after Mr Drey. No doubt due to Alexia. She seems to understand humans better than him, or maybe just me. They're good for each other – she helps him be more compassionate and he helps her keep a level head.

 

Which brings me to thoughts on Harmony as I'm taking the elevator up to her floor. I was being honest when I'd said I'd liked her. Despite my apparently wrong first impressions, she caught my eye and we hit it off. She seems a good person, having offered her help when she obviously doesn't need to, and she was kind to me. Understanding and not judging. That's hard to find here, in this galaxy full of hidden agendas and shady motivations. There's good people on the Citadel – I'm around them daily – but there's an overwhelming majority of assholes outside of the food banks and clinics I frequent. People are more self-serving than not, especially as they fight for normalcy in their lives. Harmony wasn't. She was openly concerned for me, a complete stranger, and didn't try to take advantage, or lie, or do anything deceitful.

 

I wonder vaguely if I'm truly drawn towards her kind heart, or if I just appreciate who she is.

 

I want to work with her, certainly, but beyond that? I'm not so sure. I barely know her anyway, having just spent a little while in her company and traded a few messages, mostly about work. Maybe I need to get out of these ideas about her. Maybe I need to not get ideas and my hopes up over women I just randomly meet at bars. Women who just want to help out the C.R.E. and nothing more. Women who probably aren't looking for the same things as I am in a partner.

 

I get off the elevator resolute in my decision to be professional, nothing more, and ring her door once I reach it. She opens her door with a small smile on her face, and I feel heat flood my own. It was dark in Purgatory, with the flashing lights of the dance floor periodically making it even more difficult to see clearly, and it was dim in the skycar during our trip to my apartment, being that I live so low in the ward that the only real light is from storefronts and transit hubs. She also had her hood up the entire time, and I could only see a bit of her hair and unshadowed face. Today she chose to wear her hair up, and took off the hoodie in favor of a plain white t-shirt, fitted and showing just how well built she is. And without her hair and hood obscuring her face, I now see just how pretty her silver eyes are, her prominent cheekbones, and how striking her smattering of freckles are. She's taller than I remember, probably due to the cocktails I'd drank, even with the cane supporting her weight.

 

I instantly feel small and awkward, and stutter my way through a 'hello'.

 

She flicks her eyes away from me, rubs the side of her neck, and steps aside to let me in. Once the door slides shut behind me, she asks me if I want something to drink.

 

“Just a water,” I smile tightly, my eyes flicking over the sparsely decorated space of her apartment, big curtainless window looking over the park.

 

I walk just to the edge of her kitchen while she fetches two glasses from a stainless steel cupboard, and I feel a touch self-conscious. I want to be a good guest and start up a conversation, smile and share in easy conversation as we'd done in Purgatory, but here I am instead feeling out of place in my work uniform, data-pads heavy in my coat pockets, and nerves gluing my mouth shut. She's pretty _and_ nice, and that combination never fails to turn me into an awkward mess. It's not quite like when I'd first met Fifi, she's too outgoing and boisterous to let me clam up and have my insecurities keep me locked up. Harmony is prone to quiet spells, obviously at least a little reserved, and, nothing against my best friend, much more striking.

 

She hands me a glass and motions towards the low table adjacent to her kitchen, leaning her cane against the wall, and I smile my thanks and take a seat. "This is a nice place you have," I say while slotting my fingers together around the glass. "I guess your job is pretty good, huh?"

 

Her eyes crinkle at the edges when she smiles a closed-lipped smile. "Yeah, I'm fortunate to have the work."

 

My curiosity gets the better of my nerves, and I ask with a furrow of my brow, "Then why do you wanna work for the C.R.E.?"

 

Her eyes flit down towards her glass and she takes a deep breath, "I used to help people in the Alliance. Now it feels... well, I still help, but it's different. Since I'm retired. I make annual donations, but sometimes credits aren't enough." She looks back up towards me, a kind smile in her eyes, "And then you offered me work, and I don't know. It just seems like something I should do. Something more hands on."

 

"More fulfilling than donations," I nod in understanding. I carry a small smile on my lips while I turn to dig through my coat pockets for the data-pad I'm to give her. I slide it over the frosted glass of the table and say, "Driving around won't be too exciting though," my smile grows while I delve into my work, and soon our work, "There'll be a lot of waiting around while our patients are at their appointments. You can wait in the car, or you can come up with me to wait in the clinic lobbies, if you want. I'm the advocate for fifteen patients currently, but they see their doctors on average once every two weeks. Two of my patients are currently hospitalized, so they won't need transportation until they're cleared though." My smile thins as I press my lips together, "Most of my patients are adults, one's a kid, but she's good so you won't have to worry about your car, or anything. She has an anemic disorder that affects her oxygen absorption. She needs to go in for weekly transfusions and sees a specialist once monthly."

 

I look up from where my gaze has drifted to see Harmony with her face pinched in thought, "Her parents can't find her healthcare?"

 

"She's an orphan." My expression has turned considerably more sour at the thought of Junalies' situation, "And she's a hanar. They have shitty social services. She's lucky she's on the Citadel though. She's staying at an asari orphanage. It's a helluva lot better than the system the hanar have for their orphans on their homeworld, though. At least that's what everyone says, anyway."

 

"Hmm," Harmony makes a noise of consideration and takes a drink from her glass. "And your other patients?"

 

"Some are elderly who just need extra assistance because their families are either off-world, or... gone," I try to explain gently, being not too fond of the idea of so many families destroyed and dead, "A few ex-military in PT, and the rest have chronic conditions that need constant management. A few suffering from long-term eezo exposure, major organ disease, and recovering trauma patients, mostly. They're all Zakera residents, though. Each branch handles cases in the ward they're stationed, so there won't be too much driving around all over the Citadel. Most of my patients are seen at local clinics, but some go to Huerta for treatment."

 

I pause and hold Harmony's gaze while she takes all that I'd spit out in. I'd said that all kinda quickly, and it's a lot to digest. When her face hardens and she looks away I can't help the sad little noise of disappointment from leaving the back of my throat. "Sounds like too much to deal with, huh?"

 

"No," her eyes widen and she's quick to return her gaze. "If anything I wish I could help _more_ , but, well," she rakes a hand through her hair, slightly mussing the previously straight strands still pulled back, "I sometimes forget just how bad some people have it. Shit," her lips twist, "that makes me sound incredibly ignorant. I keep track of the recovery effort, but it's different to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

 

My expression softens with understanding and I unconsciously reach a hand out towards her, just shy of where her hands are loosely wrapped around her glass. "It's different to see it in person too."

 

A rush of air leaves her lips while she says softly, "I spent some time with the refugees at the docks during the war. And after the war, in the camps... I've seen just how terrible people have it first-hand. I guess," her eyes flick around the open space of her apartment, "I've spent too much time holed up in here, just reading the reports and articles, and not being _out there_ doing something. Other than losing touch," her lips curl down in a harsh frown.

 

"I'm sure you've had your own things to deal with," I try to reassure. "And you make donations - that's more than a lot of people do."

 

" _I should be doing more_ ," I hear her say so softly, I'd almost missed it.

 

"You don't have any obligation to help these people, Harmony," at the sound of her name, she looks back over towards me. "You fought in the war. You've already done a lot, and if you want to do more, I won't stop you, but don't feel bad because there's still people hurting out there. Everyone's still healing. It'll take time."

 

"It'll take more than time," she retorts just a touch bitterly.

 

"Yeah," I agree and lean in my seat towards her, "And a lot of people lost things they can't get back, so no one can make everything better either. We can help each other, but we can't fix everything. There's people who will suffer, there's people who won't make it, and no one, including you, should feel guilty over not being able to change that fact."

 

She leans back, crosses her arms over her chest, a hard expression on her face, "You're speaking from experience, I take it," she says it like a fact and not a question.

 

I still answer all the same, "I've lost patients," I say, the words choking in my throat and keeping me from voicing just how horrible watching those people I've worked so hard for _die_.

 

"And your mother," her voice softens while she remembers our conversation at Purgatory.

 

I decide to be honest with her. I want her to understand. "More than my mother," I breathe. I roll up the sleeve on my right arm, irrationally acting out of emotion and baring more of myself than I should, that I'll probably regret for later, and that I'll probably scare this woman off for. I lay my arm on the table, the black flowing memorial tattoo of my designation as 'Subject 327 Delta' face-up on my exposed forearm for her to see. "Have you heard of the Lost Ones?"

 

Her face goes completely blank, her posture rigid in her seat, and she nods, once, tersely.

 

I don't know what brought on that reaction, but a dam has broken in the filter of my mouth and thoughts as I continue to bare myself to this woman. This stranger. "I lost my whole _world_ ," I say, voice watery with emotion, "I understand. I know what it's like to want to help and feel useless, but don't beat yourself up over something you can't change. You can help in small ways, but you can't change the way the galaxy is."

 

Her expression shifts strangely, and I can't really interpret it, "I've heard that before, and I'll have to disagree." She looks up towards me, her silvery eyes locking with my own chocolate-colored gaze, and her voice changes to something a touch more wry, disbelieving almost. "You really don't recognize me, do you?"

 

My face scrunches up, confused at the change in topic, and at the question itself. "What? Am I supposed to?"

 

Still holding my gaze, she asks, "Who am I?"

 

"Harmony?" I answer questioningly, not understanding one little bit. "Are you not Harmony?" I'm starting to get a little concerned, a little wary of her, in my confusion. I slowly pull my arm back and push back down my sleeve while a smirk oddly tilts the very edges of her freckled lips.

  
"I'm Harmony. Harmony Shepard. Former Captain, Commander, and Spectre," she extends a hand out towards me, lips pulled tight, expression clear and honest. "Nice to meet you," she says, almost playfully.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am beyond sorry for how long it's been for an update! But I kept getting error messages every time I tried to post something new on here, and all AO3 staff could tell me was they don't know why some people were having the error, and that most people were eventually able to post after trying several times. So I kept trying! And here's to hoping this chapter posts okay! Thanks for sticking with me you guys!

"You've got to be shitting me," I blink dumbly while I struggle to recall what Commander Shepard's first name is, and draw a massive blank. I ignore her outstretched hand completely and turn on my 'tool with a swipe of my fingers.

 

"What are you doing?" She asks, confusion now in her tone.

 

"An extranet search," I mutter, and she barks a laugh. I look up at her briefly before turning back towards my 'tool and searching for Commander Shepard's full name. Pictures come up with my search entry, and sure enough it's 'Harmony Jane Shepard'. I look back and forth from the interview still-shots of Commander Shepard on my 'tool and back up towards Harmony a few times before a cold wave of reality hits me square in the chest.

 

Holy shitcakes.

 

"Umm..." I stutter while trying to think of something sufficient to say, "I take back what I said."

 

She shakes her head, "No, don't. That was the most honesty I've heard in a long time." She smiles, gently, carefully. "I didn't tell you who I was to intimidate you, or anything. I told you because you were honest with me, and I'd wanted to return the favor."

 

I feel the dull tingle of anxiousness travel up the tendrils of my nerves while my mind unhelpfully stutters in being useful and I'm completely thrown off balance. I'm in Commander Shepard's apartment, and I've just had an argument with Commander Shepard.

 

And I have no idea what the hell to do.

 

"Okay," I say, quietly, and my brain is still being incredibly unhelpful, especially when I have the thought that I'd had the fleeing thought earlier today of considering asking out _ Commander Fucking Shepard _ at one point.

 

Her expression deflates and she asks a little deprecatingly, "I guess I shouldn't have said anything, huh?"

 

"Oh, no," I frantically reach my hands out towards her over the tabletop. "Th-thank you for telling me. I, uh, in the vid-games you always have your helmet on. I didn't realize... I'm not exactly from around here. I'm sorry I didn't know..."

 

"You have nothing to apologize for," she sighs and her shoulders droop in her seat. "The vid-games?"

 

"My brother plays them," I withdraw my hands to twist my fingers together in my lap, still feeling off-kilter.

 

"Your brother?" She looks confused, "But you'd said you were a Lost One, I didn't think..."

 

She trails off and I supply in nervous rapid-fire speech, "We met at JEM. We're both Deltas. He's just a kid. Before he was transferred to foster care, I was given partial guardianship. He started calling me his sister, I think he thought it was funny, but... yeah. We're not really related."

 

"Bonds of brotherhood and not blood?" Her smile is small, soft, "I get that."

 

I flick my eyes down to my fingers twisted in my lap, and delve into silence with renewed nerves.

 

She breaks it with a soft, "What's your brother's name?"

 

"Lyle Groves." I look up towards her, still nervously moving my fingers around until I'm gripping the hem of my coat. "He wants to join the Alliance," I feel a fond smile brighten my expression and chase away some of my nerves, "He's studying for the entrance exams."

 

Her gaze slides to the side briefly, "I haven't even thought of those in years." Her laugh is quiet before she says, "They're not too bad."

 

"They're probably more difficult when you come from a time where you don't study anything even remotely close to quantum physics in secondary school."

 

She seems to sober some, a look of intrigue enters her eyes, "What time are you from?"

 

"I was technically born a little over two-hundred years ago," my mood sours some at the reminder. "In a different reality." I take a breath and move to stand abruptly. "I guess there's no reason for you to be my driver. I'll just, um, be on my way. I'm sorry for bothering you."

 

"You weren't a bother," she mutters, her expression earnest, "But if you want to go, I'll just - let me walk you to the door."

 

As she too stands, grabbing her cane and leaning lightly on it, the chime on her door sounds. I stay standing while she walks slowly over to answer it. The door opens on its own when she's halfway to the threshold. Garrus Fucking Vakarian is standing there, leaning against the door frame and wearing a set of heavy armor, weaponless as far as I can see, trademark visor over one eye and scars and all. Somewhere my inner fan-girl is screaming and flailing at being in the same room as Commander Shepard _ and _ Garrus Vakarian. In the flesh. In the same fucking room.

 

I don't think I breathe when his bright blue eyes hone in on me. I _ know _ it's him too. He, at least, looks how I'd expect him to. I feel very warm at him looking at me critically while Harmony, err, Shepard berates him for breaking in her place. "Dammit, Garrus. How many times do I have to ask you not to hack my security?"

 

"Sorry Shepard," he straightens and finally looks towards her. "I didn't know you had company."

 

"You didn't ask," she sniffs. She looks towards me, and I swear there's _ nervousness _ in her look while she asks me, "Can we talk real quick?"

 

"Uh, sure." I turn and follow her into the kitchen while Garrus lets himself in and plops himself on her sofa. _ Fuck me _ if I know what's going on.

 

"I think I owe you an explanation before you leave," she starts, and stops, adjusting her weight on her feet and bracing an arm against the countertop. I think I have a permanent deer-in-headlights look going right now.

 

"No, it's okay. Sh-shepard."

 

She frowns, and it's a hard thing, "No, just, can you call me Harmony?"

 

I blink stupidly. "Why?" I ask immediately.

 

"With you, I-" she stops and audibly swallows before continuing quieter, "It's fine if you call me Harmony. You, uh, you don't need to call me Shepard." My brow furrows, and she continues after a beat, "I'd still like to be your driver, Karie."

 

"But you're," I shake my head, and clarity returns to me at last. "You could help in so many other ways though."

 

"Here's the thing," she says on a sigh. "I've been hold up in here for..." She trails off and I see her jaw flex as she grinds her teeth together. "I'd like some normalcy, in my life, for once, but I still want to be out there _ doing _ something. I still do good work, but it's not the same since I've been restricted from active duty and put into forced retirement."

 

"But driving around patients isn't like active duty either," I counter in a soft voice full of concern.

 

"It's something at least," she stresses, "and I've been doing nothing but moving credits and intelligence around since I've been put up on the Citadel. And that's on top of dealing with bureaucrats on a daily basis." When I'm hesitant to accept, she says, "Would you have let me if you didn't know I was Shepard?"

 

That does it, because I'd be pretty shitty to deny Commander Shepard what she wants just because she's Commander Shepard and not some other retired military person. "Fine," I sigh in exasperation and wave a hand around. "But you're gonna be bored the whole time."

 

She takes up the hand I was waving around and squeezes it in her free one. "Thank you," she smiles and drops my hand. "You won't regret it."

 

I just cross my arms to keep from fidgeting and have the sudden thought, "What am I supposed to tell my boss?"

 

"I'll handle that," she grins, and it's all teeth.

 

The goodbye is strange, and Garrus even dips his head in farewell while I pass him. I'm sort of in some sort of surreal haze on the elevator ride down, and it takes me much longer than it should to completely process everything that just happened. But what am I supposed to do when the Hero of the Fucking Galaxy wants to pick up a weird spare-time hobby and drive a bunch of strangers around to clinics? Does seriously no one else want to work with her or give her the opportunities she seems so desperate to have? Does no one else want Commander Shepard to help them? Seriously, what the ever-living fuck is wrong with the galaxy to have a hero fall so far from what she's envisioned for herself?

 

* * *

 

Darryn didn't believe me, and neither did Fifi until Arvo gave the all-clear and officially posted _ Harmony Shepard _ as my driver on the work roster.

 

Then I got _ a lot _ of shit, and not just from Fifs, Nisdeen, Alexia and Darryn - Fifi had let Lyle into the loop, and I had my brother vid-call me and screech at me in all his frantic fan-boy excitement. In between everyone else freaking out over it all I didn't really have much of a chance for myself having been too preoccupied with everyone else. So, I of course started losing my shit when I was _ actually _ in the car with Harmony waiting for Mr. Aeneas in his apartment's lot.

 

I can tell she knows I keep stealing glances at her the whole time by the slight twitch of her lips every so often, but she's nice enough not to say anything. She looks... strange, but not in a bad way, wearing a C.R.E. uniform jacket and plain white slacks.

 

There's something though, that's been nagging at me the entire time - since I'd first learned who she really was - and I finally blurt it out, "Why'd you honestly want to be my driver?"

 

She starts a little, probably having resigned herself to awkward silence and glances, before she shrugs, "I wasn't gonna pass up an opportunity to get out of my apartment and help people with my own two hands."

 

I'm sure I'm gaping like an idiot, but I seriously don't understand. "But you're _ Commander Shepard _ , you can't tell me there's nothin' else you could be doing right now."

 

She shrugs again, and somehow the movement looks sad, "Well, it is. Wasn't always like this, but it's all I'm left with now."

 

"But you're a war hero!" I turn in my seat, folding one leg under the other, so I can face her better. "Seriously, you should be, I don't know, _ out there _ ."

 

"I was at first," her lips tilt into a frown. "I was heading peace talks and doing interviews and traveling - seeing cities and entire _ worlds _ be rebuilt, but it's been almost eight years since the war's ended - a quarter of a salarian lifespan. Generations have come and gone, and people want to forget." She turns towards me and there's a deep well of passion in her silvery gaze, "They want to forget a war where the _ entire _ galaxy was brought to the brink of extinction, and I can't blame them. I'm just a relic from a time everyone wishes never happened, and no one needs me for anything more than what I've been doing. Hell, even the media's practically lost interest. They only care for an interview or a promo when a new vid game is released."

 

I shake my head, "Everyone at HQ was _ freaking out _ . You're still an icon."

 

"Yes, well," and there's a self-depreciating twist to her lips, "I'm sure the hype won't last."

 

Now I'm starting to get pissed off. "I can't believe that! You - you're, fucking, _ ugh _ !" I rake my hands through my hair, and this is probably the only time I'm grateful that Mr. Aeneas is crap at remembering Citadel time. "This is- I can't even-" I stop and take a short breath. "My brother's in Basic right now, and you're a living legend in the Alliance. I'm sure you could find-"

 

She raises a brow at my pause, and I sigh with battling feelings of nerves, disappointment, and frustration before continuing.  “ _ Point is _ , couldn't the Alliance do something for you?"

 

"Other than sticking me with a desk job?" Her expression is bland, resigned, "I already have a desk job here, but at least I'm not crammed into an office all day."

 

"Why would they do that?"

 

"Not fit for duty," she looks a touch bitter now. "My cybernetics went to shit, and triage was a mess in the weeks after the Reapers went down. I'm lucky to be alive, let alone walking." Her eyes glaze over as she recounts almost in an empty tone, "PT didn't exactly pan out the way it was supposed to, and surgery is too invasive. Too dangerous. Too much hardware and not enough undamaged tissue to work with." Her frown deepens as she says, "It was shit at first with all the traveling, but driving? I can drive just fine."

 

"But-" and I'm gaping at her again, "Miranda brought you back from being dead, how come she can't just... fix your cybernetics?"

 

Both her eyebrows practically fly off her forehead before they furrow and her entire face hardens as she asks, "Just exactly what kind of Lost One are you?"

 

I purse my lips and say for what feels like the umpteenth time, "I'm a Delta."

 

With that same expression, something that is getting more and more frightening with each second that passes by with that look directed at me, she says, "I was debriefed on Lost Ones when your people were first discovered, but I'm not familiar with all the terminology."

 

A little frustrated sigh escapes me at having to clarify, and I flick my eyes away from her face to settle on my twisting fingers in my lap. "I'm from a reality where everything that happened in the Reaper War was a video game. There were also comic books. I read a couple of those too." I watch as my hands clench into loose fists atop my thighs. "I think I mentioned, my reality is in a different dimension set in time two-hundred years before now, here in this dimension. I was born in 1991."

 

"Shit." The curse is so quiet that I almost don't hear it over the sound of Mr. Aeneas' heavy boots as he rushes along the pavement.

 

The skycar ride is quiet while we drive Mr. Aeneas to his neurology appointment. I walk him in and sit with him in the lobby like normal, and Shepard... Harmony elects to sit in the skycar. I transfer his progress notes from my 'tool to my work data-pad while we take him back to his apartment with more silence for company. The ride back to HQ is tense.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a twist this chapter! :D Enjoy!

I wake up in the middle of the night to my bedside table light flicking on and Elvis clawing the crap out of my leg. And then _ growling _ . And it's his protective ' _ I'm gonna eat you _ ' growl. I shoot straight up and wrap my hands around his collar and say sternly, " _ Elvis _ . Heel." He's still growling low in his throat as he sits on the leg he just clawed to hell.

 

"Varren. _ Nice _ ," an unfamiliar voice who is definitely _ not _ my roomate's says just beyond the soft glow of my lamp.

 

I can see the soft white-blue glow of my ocular cybernetics as they adjust to the lack of light, and then I can make out the shape of a woman dressed in black leaning against my far wall. My hands reflexively wrap around tighter on Elvis' collar while I ask, "Who are you?" and he growls again, but doesn't disobey.

 

"Kasumi Goto," She says airily while she takes a couple steps forward, and I can make out a wicked smirk plastered across what I can see of her face.

 

I gasp when it hits me, what she'd said, "Holy _ shit _ ."

 

Her smirk turns into a grin. "Nice to know I finally made it into the vid-games, even if it's in a different reality." She stops just a few steps before me and crosses her arms loosely across her chest.

 

I lean forward more towards Elvis and lay a hand against his chest for his comfort as much as my own. "Why are you in my room?" I ask with confusion plain in my tone while the dredges of sleep leave my mind.

 

"Long story short? Shep asked Liara to do a background check on you, Garrus found out and got the intel to me, and asked me to play delivery girl." She reaches with one hand into a pocket on her hip and brandishes an OSD disc in my direction. "And here I am."

 

I hesitate before I slowly take the disk into one hand, and before I process anything I blurt, "Why?"

 

"I couldn't resist," she grins so wide it'd give the Cheshire Cat competition.

 

I shake my head and finally release Elvis since it seems he's calmed down, but he's still on guard. "No... Why this? Why all this trouble?" I look down at the disk, “ _ What is this _ ?"

 

She shrugs, "I guess you'll have to use it and find out." She waves with a wiggle of her fingers, "Ta-ta!" My bedside light flickers out with a sharp movement of her hand, and by the time my cybernetics have adjusted to the darkness, she's gone.

 

I mutter a mantra of  ' _ what the fuck _ ' the entire time I struggle to turn back on my light and plop myself down at my desk with Elvis trailing beside me like he's glued to my side. He's feeling a little rattled right now, I'm sure just like I am, and I pat my lap in invitation after I've inserted the disc in my terminal. He settles himself while the file loads. I see my name ' _ Karie Cornblossom _ ' printed along the top of the screen with my intake picture at JEM below it, then my designation as Subject 327 Delta.

 

It's not just a background check, it's _ everything _ .

 

It has everything from the moment I was found bleeding in Utah, to all my recorded movements - when I had leave, where I spent my time - while at JEM and in and around Vancouver. It has the digital court records when I claimed Lyle as my legal dependent, the social services documents when I'd authorized joint-custody with his foster parents, and a quick bio on him. Even what few Alliance credentials he has.

 

It has my movements on the Citadel - from the moment Arvo picked me up from the transport hub, when I'd applied for citizenship, and after. It has bios on my known associates - Fiona Vaughn, Urdnot Arvo, Darryn Caoilainn, Alexia Titus, Nisdeen T'Sen.

 

It has _ all _ of my medical history and work history.

 

It has a psych eval that was definitely taken from JEM.

 

There's vids attached too. It has my vid-call interview with the C.R.E. That time I'd called the vet when Elvis ate my shoes. And a vid labeled ' _ Gregoire-Kane Jameson 2188 10:32 _ '. _ That _ peaks my interest, and I click on the vid to see something that looks like it came out of a crime vid-show. A white room with the camera view from above, a table with a man sat across from two others and an asari standing just behind them. I vaguely wonder what this has to do with me when the video starts. The man sat by himself is gesturing while his voice flits into my room through my speakers where the video starts mid-sentence,

 

"-been preparing for this day for the better part of ten years."

 

"Right," one of the other humans say, "So you know the identities of other," there's a brief shuffling noise and I can see the man moving around a couple data-pads, "'Lost Ones', as you call them?"

 

"There's nearly four-hundred in total by the time the disturbances stop," the first man says, "I know the names of a few notable ones."

 

"Who are?" The second man prompts impatiently.

 

The first then starts to list off names and short facts about each one. He gives a list of scientists, doctors, professors, lawyers, investors, police officers, soldiers. I learn Dr. Greene is a Lost One, and then I hear something that makes my breath catch in my throat,

 

"Karie Cornblossom, Captain Harmony Shepard's spouse."

 

There's more names said, but the vid stops shortly thereafter. And I'm just... sitting there, staring at the frozen image of the man who's the foremost expert on the reality disturbances named after him, the founder of JEM, and who'd just listed my name off in a list of notable Lost Ones - who just said I was _ fucking Commander Shepard's wife! _

 

I _ think _ that I have a brief panic attack that lurches me into a frenzy as I go back to the main file, and find another one attached and listed with Mr. Jameson's name. This one is a written list of bios noted to be recorded by Mr. Jameson on the known Lost Ones dictated by him in the interview I'd just seen. My name is highlighted with a bright green rectangle on the list. Where, as if hearing him say it wasn't enough, it lists me as being married to Harmony.

 

Apparently this is really going to happen because Mr. Jameson is an Alpha, and he's from the future in this reality.

 

I end up pacing my room for several laps, and finding that there's no way in hell that I'm gonna be able to go back to sleep, I do research on Mr. Jameson - on his credibility, on his findings - and then I do something I haven't done in months: I call off work.

 

But I have a plan.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who decided to revive an old unfinished story! Btw I've decided to toss the last 5-6k that I'd had written in my unpublished draft forever ago and restart publishing for this thing with fresh ideas. I have an outline, but not much written beyond what I'm publishing for this chapter. So, since all chapters beyond this chapter will be essentially from scratch, I'm gonna say that updates will likely be sporadic. Anywhoo - enjoy!

I take the transit with Elvis - muzzle, harness and everything because he kept _ whining _ at me. He seems distressed, either on my behalf or because of Kasumi, and so I take him with me on my way to Harmony's apartment. Unannounced and everything - she answers the door looking haggard and frowning. Her hair is messy, her t-shirt and sweatpants are rumpled, and she's leaning on her cane more heavily than I'd seen her last. My plan was to come over here and straighten everything out, but here, seeing her like this, I’m not too sure I should’ve even come over with all my frenetic energy in face of her distress.

 

"I see that Garrus is a traitor," she grumbles before hobbling away from the door, leaving it open, and I take it as an invitation to step inside while muttering to Elvis to behave in hushed tones. I find her in her kitchen with two beers in her hands, despite the fact she clearly just woke up, and it's still about mid-morning for me. She slides one over the counter on her kitchen island towards me before popping open hers and bracing her elbows on the countertop after taking a swig.

 

Yeah, maybe coming over here just right now wasn’t the best idea. I wonder how long she’s known before Kasumi passed the information onto me. 

 

She's just staring at me, studying my face, and I feel myself fidget while my hand tightens on Elvis' lead. I can’t stand the silence for long, and so I finally blurt the reason for my dropping by, "Kasumi stopped by my place last night."

 

She snorts, "You mean she broke in."

 

I nod before deciding to move forward with something of my earlier plan, "Garrus sent her. She gave me an OSD. About me."

 

Before I can continue, Harmony interrupts me and bluntly says, "So you know we're married." At my stunned silence she rakes a hand through her hair, "Or will be, I guess. Fuck this trans-dimensional time-warping shit."

 

She scrubs a hand across her eyes, and all my planning goes out the window at just how upset she looks. "Are you okay?" I ask quietly, concerned. I mean, all this is really unbelievable, but she looks like she’s not taking it remotely well. Not just upset and disbelieving as I did at first, but she seems completely thrown.

 

She sighs heavily before looking up towards me, "I will be. Always will be. It's just..." she trails off briefly and rubs a hand through her normally-straight hair again. "It's always felt like I'm following a script, and I guess I am. Other people have already seen my entire life happen, and I'm just going through the motions."

 

It's my turn to frown at her while I say, "I don't believe anything's set in stone."

 

She quirks a brow before taking another sip of her beer, "Thought of marrying me that bad, huh?"

 

"What?" I ask bewildered before trying to wave off the bitterness emanating from her, "I'm just saying that it _ doesn't _ have to happen. That anything anyone tells you will happen, doesn't _ have _ to. I've looked into Mr. Jameson and he's not always right."

 

"And what about?"

 

"He's made some investment mistakes - nothing major, but he's lost money. You'd think that someone from the future wouldn't take any losses."

 

She shrugs, "Maybe there's something to that then. Liara seems to think he's pretty legit."

 

I lean a little against the counter too, "I'm just saying that because one guy said we get married, doesn't mean that we have to. We just met a couple days ago. It seems so out of left field."

 

"Right," she says, but she doesn't look convinced. "And, say, in a couple years will we still be strangers?"

 

"I-," well, I don't know what to say to that. Hesitatingly I admit, "I don't know."

 

She makes a humming noise, her eyes squint in consideration, and she asks rather abruptly, "Do you think I'm attractive?"

 

I'm silent for a moment while I try to make sure I’ll form coherent words instead of sputtering. I wasn’t expecting her to ask something like that. "I'm sorry, what?"

 

"I think you're attractive," she says and her eyes flick over my face again and along to my hands braced against her countertop. I'm suddenly very conscious that I'm wearing far less clothing than I have around her before - nothing obscene, but my arms are bare, and I watch while her silvery-blue eyes linger on my exposed tattoos.

 

I don't know what to say to that, either. This whole conversation isn’t going to plan. I just wanted to reassure her that I don’t believe that Mr. Jameson is omniscient and maybe find some way to salvage our friendship in face of all this. I thought it would be best to discuss this in person, but I’m starting to wish I’d just called instead. She’s waiting for an answer though, and so I swallow down as much of my nerves as I can. I subconsciously raise one hand to rest against my lips while my face burns with embarrassment, and I mutter behind my hand, "I don't really think that matters, but um, uh, yeah. Sure."

 

"Well then," and there's a wry twist to her lips now, her voice still tinged with bitterness, "one point for Mr. Jameson.

 

_______________________

 

Harmony and I had an argument on our respective views on fate - we disagree.

 

That's what I'd relayed to Fifi after leaving Harmony's apartment. I'd gone to Fif's, and she and Nisdeen teamed up to both comfort me and get me to spill everything out to them. Everytime I go to them for comfort that seems to happen.

 

I hold the idea that nothing is set for the future indefinitely, even with the reality shifts and everything else - because who knows just how concrete the theories behind the Jameson-Effect disturbances are? I believe that time isn't a linear thing, but rather more like a web, and so because someone is an Alpha and says something is going to happen - that isn't enough for me to believe that's the way thing are going to go. I'd had a plan when I went to her apartment. And that plan didn't really pan out.

 

It was naive of me to think that I could mend any problems or concerns that came about because of what Liara dug up with one conversation. It was childish of me to think that Harmony and I could maintain our tentative friendship afterward with the looming shadow cast by Mr. Jameson causing tension. Because, really despite my views on fate and what Mr. Jameson said, I _ do _ really like Harmony. But I don’t think that’s predestined.

 

I _ like _ her. I liked her from the start, and that's what made the argument we had hurt so much, I think.

 

It was more like a heated debate, really. There were some raised voices and cutting words ending with me coming up with some lame excuse on needing to leave, and me letting myself out the door before she could even spit out another word. It got so heated so fast.

 

She seems to believe so strongly in destiny, and that people can be messengers of fate, and yet she bristles against the idea of having her freedom limited in that way. It’s conflicting and confusing and at times what she’d said was difficult to follow. Maybe some of that has to do with the war. She knew what was going to happen and the people she needed to believe her didn’t, and in no way did she want that future to come, but it still did. And maybe she thinks something like that’s happening now, but in her private life. 

 

She thinks she’s losing control of her life’s path, and I know what it feels like to be adrift like that, but I think all her worry may be for nothing.

 

Just because we seem to have a rapport and like each other a bit, doesn’t mean what Mr. Jameson said is the be-all end-all. 

 

Things are going to be strained now with us, I know as much, but I haven't had any more brilliant ideas on what to do.

 

I'm just going to let it be, like I should’ve done in the first place.


End file.
